_     .     ..........         .,,-..     :     ,..;.     .. 


VISITING  THE  S 


EMMA. 


ii 


LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OP 
CALIFORNIA 

SANTA  CRUZ 


VISITING  THE  SIN 


By  EMMA  RAYNER 

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HERBERT  S.  STONE  &  COMPANY 


VISITING  THE  SIN 

A  Tale  of  Mountain  Life  in 
Kentucky  and  Tennessee 

By 

EMMA    RAYNER 


Boston 

Small,  Maynard  &  Company 
1900 


Copyright)  /poo,  by 
Small,  Maynard  &  Company 

( Incorporated} 


Entered  at  Stationers'  Hall 


Press  of 
George  H.  Ellis,  Boston,  U.S.A. 


PREFACE 

It  may  possibly  happen  that  some  reader  of  the  follow- 
ing pages  may  see  in  the  incidents  found  therein  that 
which  to  him  will  appear  as  evidence  of  a  somewhat  free 
flight  of  fancy.  To  such  the  author  would  like  to  ex- 
plain that,  although  the  plot  of  the  book  is  entirely  ficti- 
tious, there  are  but  few  incidents  introduced  into  the 
story  which  are  not  founded  upon  real  happenings,  not 
necessarily  in  the  actual  neighbourhood  where  the  story  is 
located,  but  within  the  mountain  district  of  Kentucky 
and  Tennessee.  Taken  directly  from  the  mouths  of  old 
residents,  these  incidents  and  traditions  have  been  woven 
into  the  thread  of  the  tale ;  and  whatever  of  strangeness 
or  unconventionality  they  may  seem  to  possess  must  be 
attributed,  not  to  the  teller  of  the  story,  but  to  the  wild, 
untutored  life  of  a  people  who  twenty-five  years  ago  were 
not  quite  what  they  are  to-day,  when  education  is  pene- 
trating even  into  the  most  remote  recesses  of  the  hills, 
and  the  stories  of  long  ago  are  told  cautiously  and  with 
many  a  look  at  the  listener  to  detect  the  first  approach  to 
a  smile  of  ridicule  or  disbelief. 

The  details  of  the  fight  before  the  door  of  the  church 
were  drawn  from  the  lips  of  a  resident  of  the  hamlet 
where  the  skirmish  occurred, —  a  hamlet  where,  even 
to-day,  the  sheriff  deems  it  wisest  to  go  with  words  of 
friendship  on  his  tongue. 

An  actual  occurrence  of  like  character  has  been  made 
the  foundation  for  the  story  of  the  death  of  Abner  Poteet, 
some  of  the  details  of  the  dream  having  been  told  to  the 
author  by  an  old  resident  of  the  mountains  who  was  per- 
sonally acquainted  with  the  dreamer,  and  who  heard  the 
story  from  his  lips  before,  in  accordance  with  the  warn- 
ing, he  unresistingly  yielded  ^lp  his  life. 


vi  PREFACE 

In  the  particular  form  in  which  they  are  woven  into 
the  tale  the  incidents  are  to  be  regarded  as  purely  ficti- 
tious. Nevertheless,  their  foundation  lies  firmly  fixed 
upon  fact. 

In  the  matter  of  dialect  the  object  has  been  to  keep  to 
the  more  general  form  of  it  heard  within  thirty  miles  of 
the  spot  where  the  story  is  located,  allowance  being  made 
for  changes  already  produced  by  education.  Dialect 
varies  much  in  different  districts,  even  within  a  small 
radius,  and  that  which  may  be  a  fair  reproduction  of 
the  speech  of  one  neighbourhood  would  be  open  to  criticism 
in  another. 

BOSTON,  1900. 


VISITING  THE   SIN 


CHAPTER   I 

CLANG  and  clamour  and  click!  The  tongue  of 
the  old  bell  struck  noisily  against  the  metal,  and 
stopped,  as  if  in  horror  at  its  own  performance. 
It  ought  surely  to  have  picked  up  more  music  from  its 
surroundings.  The  leaves  above  it  rustled  as  in  derision 
of  its  efforts,  and  the  clear  call  of  a  bird  put  its  clamor- 
ous echoes  to  shame.  The  soft  chug,  chug,  of  water 
drawn  into  a  deep  hole  in  the  rock,  and  the  melodious 
chatter  of  the  same  agent  as  it  swept  along  the  shallow 
edge  of  the  stream,  made  particular  notes  in  the  chorus 
of  harmonious  sounds  that  held  sway  in  these  Kentucky 
woods. 

The  old  bell  was  out  of  harmony  with  its  surround- 
ings. They  ought  to  have  put  soul  even  into  its 
cracked  metal.  Forest  kings  that  had  held  court  in 
these  mountains  for  centuries  shook  their  leafy  crowns 
in  derision  at  the  barbarous  efforts  of  the  interloper. 
The  girl  whose  hand  pulled  the  cord  and  set  the  harsh 
tongue  to  vibrating  was  an  interloper  too ;  but  she  was 
not  out  of  character  with  her  surroundings.  The  tall, 
supple  figure,  the  slow  grace  of  movement,  the  dark, 
slumberous  eyes,  with  possibilities  —  no,  rather  with 
promise  —  of  passion  beneath  their  calm,  were  in  keeping 
with  the  hills  and  the  forest. 

The  girl  and  the  bell  stood  at  the  foot  of  a  high 
mountain,  or,  more  properly  speaking,  a  cleft  made  by 


2  VISITING   THE    SIN 

two  mountains,  that,  sweeping  together  just  beyond  the 
spot  where  the  bell  hung,  left  a  long,  deep  valley,  little 
more  than  a  notch  in  the  great,  overshadowing  hills.  A 
lengthy,  low  structure  built  of  logs  was  behind  her,  and 
the  stream  tumbled  over  boulders  and  tree-trunks 
almost  at  her  feet. 

She  lifted  her  eyes  for  a  minute  to  the  mountain 
opposite,  and  then  raised  her  hand  and  set  the  bell 
clanging  again.  In  answer  to  the  sound  a  figure  came 
swinging  down  the  mountain  side,  and  another  and 
another  appeared  between  the  trees.  With  long,  easy 
strides  those  mountaineers  descended  the  steep  face  of 
the  hill,  never  stopping  to  pick  out  a  path.  Their  desti- 
nation was  soon  proclaimed  to  be  the  building  before 
which  the  girl  stood,  and  they  came  straight  on  towards 
it.  Hungry  men  were  not  likely  to  turn  aside  for  an 
easier  route,  and  the  bell  had  just  announced  that  sup- 
per awaited  them. 

At  the  same  time,  from  the  door  of  a  mill,  hidden 
from  the  eyes  of  the  girl  by  a  ragged  bluff,  half  a  dozen 
men  passed  out  into  the  sunlight,  and  started  for  the 
spot  towards  which  the  descending  figures  were  con- 
verging. The  mill  was  well  out  of  sight  of  the  low 
log  building,  and  of  the  house  that  stood  by  its  side. 
The  sister  of  the  mill  owner  would  have  it  so. 

"I'm  not  aimin'  to  live  on  top  of  the  mill,  or  of  the 
mill-workers,  either  —  if  I  do  board  them,"  she  said,  with 
a  touch  of  scorn  in  her  voice.  "  They're  mountain  men, 
all.  Ary  one  of  them  can  stand  a  five  minutes'  walk 
before  he  eats,  or  if  not,  he  may  go  hungry." 

So  the  logs  of  the  long,  low  dining-hall  were  piled  one 
upon  another  at  a  convenient  distance  from  the  mill,  and 
the  house  of  the  mill  owner  rose  near  by.  It  was  of 
logs  also,  but  it  was  not  the  usual  log  house  of  the 
Kentucky  mountains.  This  was  large,  and  light,  and 
high,  and  its  chinks  were  well  covered  with  bark,  nailed 


VISITING   THE   SIN  3 

on  securely.  Inside,  the  neatly  boarded  walls  showed 
the  grain  of  the  cedar  that  grew  in  plenty  on  the 
mountains.  The  plants  that  blossomed  in  the  windows 
were  not  brighter  than  the  room  to  which  they  belonged. 
The  dark  eyes  of  the  mill  owner's  sister  were  sworn 
foes  to  dirt  and  dinginess. 

"  I'm  powerful  glad  to  hear  that  bell." 

The  first  arrival  swung  himself  round  the  end  of  the 
building,  and  pulled  up  at  the  big  half -gourd  reposing  on 
a  smooth  section  of  tree-trunk  which  measured  not  less 
than  eight  feet  across,  and  did  duty  as  an  outside  table. 

"Jist  in  time,"  he  added,  glancing  over  his  shoulder 
at  the  tall,  lean  wood-chopper  who  followed  him  closely, 
and  taking  possession  of  the  gourd  and  the  water  it  con- 
tained at  the  very  moment  when  his  companion's  hand 
was  stretched  out  to  draw  it  towards  himself.  "  Not  so 
fast,  friend.  Hit's  he'p  yerself  in  this  crowd." 

"  You'll  do,  then, —  nary  one  better,"  responded  the 
other,  as  he  watched  the  first-comer  liberally  and  lei- 
surely souse  face  and  hands  in  the  cool  water. 

Around  the  corresponding  half  of  the  gourd  the  rest 
of  the  men  were  crowding,  taking  deep  draughts  of  the 
clear  spring  water  with  which  it  was  filled  to  the  brim. 
When  all  had  taken  their  turn,  and  the  water  supply 
grew  low,  the  men,  clean  and  cool  as  to  faces  and  hands, 
filed  into  the  dining-room. 

"Dal  back  yet?" 

"No." 

The  eyes  of  the  girl  were  turned  full  on  the  ques- 
tioner. The  answer,  though  short,  was  deliberate,  the 
gaze  more  so. 

"  Powerful  slow,  hain't  he  ? " 

"Is  it  Garl  Cox  that  talks  of  slowness?"  she  said, 
with  a  curl  of  her  lip  and  a  derisive  light  in  her  eyes. 
"  When  Garl  starts  a  chopping  match  with  Dal,  it'll  be 
a  si-ight." 


4  VISITING   THE    SIN 

The  long  drawl  upon  the  last  word  gave  it  expression. 
The  man's  face  reddened  as  a  laugh  went  round  the 
table  at  his  expense. 

The  girl  turned  away,  and  her  assistant,  a  stout  moun- 
tain woman,  appeared  with  a  huge  platter  of  fried  pork. 
Hungry-looking  eyes  brightened,  and,  for  the  time, 
tongues  had  other  work  to  do  than  to  inquire  about  the 
mill  owner's  absence. 

He  for  whom  they  had  asked  was  not  far  away.  Fol- 
lowing the  stream  that  had  hewed  out  a  channel  for 
itself  down  the  face  of  the  rock  where  the  two  moun- 
tains met,  he  had  come  almost  over  the  little  camp  be- 
fore he  flung  himself  down  on  a  decayed  tree-trunk.  To 
rest  ?  Hardly.  His  attitude  had  little  of  restfulness  in 
it.  To  think,  perhaps, —  or  to  despair.  His  face  sug- 
gested the  latter  inclination.  It  was  the  face  of  a  young 
man,  but  a  disappointed  one, —  ay,  and  a  troubled  one. 

"  I  was  a  fool,"  he  said,  in  a  low,  pained  tone, —  "  a  fool ! 
And  I  always  am  and  always  shall  be  while  I  trust  in 
good  in  man  or  woman." 

His  head  went  down  on  his  hands,  and  the  mountain 
grew  still  as  if  innocent  of  human  occupant.  A  mis- 
chievous squirrel  presently  dropped  the  shell  of  a  last 
year's  acorn  in  his  hair,  but  the  young  man  did  not  look 
up.  A  dogwood  tree,  incited  by  a  saucy  breath  of  wind, 
flung  a  spray  of  its  great  white  bloom  sheer  in  his  face, 
or  in  that  part  of  it  that  was  not  altogether  covered  by 
his  hands.  A  lizard  crept  out  of  the  rotten  trunk  and 
scampered  over  his  foot ;  and  a  scorpion  came  danger- 
ously near,  and  then  glided  away.  He  saw  none  of 
them.  What  he  did  see  was  his  own  folly  and  its  con- 
sequences. 

"  Fool !  "  he  said  again,  after  a  long  silence.  "  Fool, 
to  trust  ary  man  —  as  fur  as  that." 

Even  those  words,  harsh  as  they  were,  were  softened 
by  the  Southern  drawl  till  they  lost  the  worst  of  their 


VISITING   THE   SIN  5 

sting.  He  might  be  a  fool,  and  he  might  know  it, 
but  the  strident  tones  that  make  the  word  an  insult 
were  absent  from  the  voice  that  uttered  the  reproach. 
Southern  in  tone  and  Southern  in  nature  was  the  young 
man,  who  at  another  call  from  the  bell,  sounding  not 
unmelodious  across  the  space  that  separated  the  mill 
owner  from  the  mill,  lifted  his  head  and  looked  the 
world  in  the  face. 

"Fool  or  not,  it  will  avail  nothing  to  sit  here,"  he 
said,  and  rose  to  his  feet. 

Though  almost  over  the  camp,  a  big  swell  of  the 
mountain  lay  between.  He  took  the  shortest  way  down 
it.  The  choice  of  route  scarcely  suggested  a  strong 
love  of  life.  The  last  call  of  the  bell  came  up  to  him 
as  he  sprang  from  a  huge  boulder,  and  stood  again  on 
the  edge  of  the  torrent.  The  sound,  unsoftened  now 
by  distance,  embodied  the  camp  life  to  which  he  was 
returning.  He  shrank  visibly  from  it,  hesitated  a 
moment,  and  then  went  on. 

The  clatter  of  knives  and  forks  and  the  hum  of  voices 
came  to  his  ears  as  he  passed  the  open  door  of  the  long 
dining-hall.  He  turned  his  head  and  looked  in,  his  eyes 
passing  over  the  row  of  men  seated  on  either  side  of  the 
uncovered  table,  and  seeking  the  figure  of  the  girl  who 
stood  at  the  further  end.  Her  face  was  turned  towards 
the  door,  and  the  look  upon  it  caused  his  feet  to  linger, 
even  before  he  heard  her  voice. 

"Fill  your  mouth  with  victuals,  Jim  Fletcher,  and 
give  your  tongue  something  better  to  do  than  to  rattle 
aout  the  emptiness  of  your  head,"  it  said.  "Ary  dry 
gourd  can  rattle  when  it's  shook,  but  nary  man  stops  to 
listen  to  its  clatter.  When  men  want  to  know  the 
character  of  the  owner  of  this  mill,  it's  not  to  Jim 
Fletcher,  nor  to  any  other  empty  head  they'll  come  to 
ask." 

There  was  a  chuckle  and  a  laugh  down  the  line  as  the 


6  VISITING   THE    SIN 

discomfited  Jim  followed  the  girl's  injunction,  and  in 
his  confusion  conveyed  an  unusually  large  lump  of  pork 
to  the  capacious  gap  behind  his  lips. 

"Don't  be  too  hard  on  Jim,"  remonstrated  a  burly 
mountain  man  who  sat  near  the  end  of  the  table  at 
which  the  girl  stood.  "Jim  hain't  the  only  one  that 
says  Dai's  been  tuk  in  powerful  bad." 

"  I  never  said  Jim  was  the  only  idiot  around,"  replied 
the  girl,  in  clear,  musical  tones,  and  with  a  look  that 
sent  the  eyes  of  the  speaker  down  on  his  plate. 

While  a  loud  laugh  ran  round,  a  rough,  savage-look- 
ing man  dropped  his  knife,  and  turned  angrily  on  the 
speaker. 

"  You-all  can  fix  hit  abaout  as  ye  like  when  you  open 
yer  mouth,"  he  said;  "but  hit's  we-uns  that  '11  hev  to 
lose  for  Dai's  foolery." 

The  sound  of  the  words  travelled  up  to  where  the 
girl  stood,  and  down  through  the  space  between  the 
speaker  and  the  door,  passing  into  the  warm  April  air 
without.  It  brought  the  feet  of  the  passer-by  to  a 
stand,  and  almost  turned  them  into  the  room.  His 
eyes  darkened,  and  then  glowed  with  a  light  that 
answered  to  another  just  kindled  inside, —  the  light  that 
shone  dangerously  in  a  girl's  eyes. 

"  When  ary  one  of  you  loses  a  cent  by  Dalbert  Mo- 
zingo,  come  to  Naomi  Mozingo  and  say  so,"  she  said  in 
clear,  vibrating  tones.  "Till  then  hold  your  tongue, 
and  let  better  men  speak." 

She  disappeared  through  a  door  in  the  rear  of  the 
building,  and  presently  returned  with  a  big  dish  of  cob- 
bler pie  held  in  both  hands.  Knives  and  forks  sus- 
pended operations  for  a  minute,  and  then  made  a  dash 
at  the  piled  up  delicacy.  Before  ever  it  reached  the 
table,  the  load  had  grown  lighter.  It  came  in  heaped 
high  as  the  platter  would  hold,  the  rich  mellow  apple 
quarters  peeping  out  from  the  broken,  piled  up  crust. 


VISITING   THE   SIN  7 

"  Cobbler !  Cobbler  pie  here ! "  came  from  all  sides ; 
and  great  gaps  soon  showed  themselves  as  fork  after 
fork  was  thrust  into  the  yielding  mass.  Not  a  scrap  re- 
mained on  the  dish  when  the  men  straggled  out  into  the 
light  that  was  reddening  as  the  sun  dipped  down.  They 
were  rugged,  untutored  mountaineers,  every  one  of  them, 
—  fierce  looking,  too,  men  whom  one  would  instinctively 
abstain  from  angering. 

The  girl  was  left  alone.  She  stood  with  one  hand  on 
the  table,  staring  into  the  sunset  glow  beyond.  It  was 
not  the  sunset  that  was  reflected  in  her  eyes.  The  light 
without  was  too  peaceful  to  be  responsible  for  that 
within.  And  when  the  sun  dropped  suddenly  below  a 
mountain  peak,  and  the  valley  and  the  lower  hillsides 
were  left  in  shadow,  the  light  in  the  girl's  eyes  grew 
brighter  and  more  threatening.  There  was  no  sunset 
glow  to  be  made  responsible  now. 

Not  until  the  stout,  strong-armed  assistant  returned 
to  the  room  did  the  mill  owner's  sister  arouse  herself 
from  that  unseeing  stare  into  the  lessening  brightness 
without. 

"  Gather  up  the  dishes,  Texas,"  she  said.  "  I'm  going 
into  the  house." 

It  was  in  the  living  room  that  she  found  her  brother. 

"  Well  ?  "  she  said,  going  up  to  him,  and  looking  into 
the  face  that  turned  to  greet  her. 

Her  voice  had  lowered,  and  the  fire  had  left  her  eyes. 
They  were  soft  with  sympathy  now,  as  they  met  those 
of  the  young  man.  She  put  her  hand  on  his  shoulder. 

"  George  Roach  has  played  you  false  again,"  she  said, 
and  the  words  were  not  a  question. 

"Yes.  He  went  to  Louisville  and  got  the  money 
before  he  ran  off." 

"All  of  it?" 

"  Every  cent." 

They  stood  looking  at  each  other. 


8  VISITING   THE   SIN 

"  That  comes  of  having  a  partner,"  she  said  at  last. 

"And  of  trusting  him." 

A  smile,  half  scornful,  half  tender,  came  to  her  lips. 

"While  Dalbert  Mozingo  lives,  he  will  trust,"  she  said. 

He  drew  himself  away  with  a  smothered  exclamation, 
then  turned  and  laid  his  hand  on  hers. 

"  I  don't  see  why  I  should  resent  the  truth,"  he  said, 
with  bitter  humility.  "  It's  not  pleasant  to  be  reminded 
that  I'm  an  idiot,  even  though  I  know  right  well  it's  no 
lie." 

"A  good-natured  fool  would  be  nearer  the  mark,"  she 
said  slowly,  and  her  eyes  looked  into  his  with  a  flash 
that  was  tender  as  it  was  brief.  "  But  the  fool  must 
pay  for  his  folly." 

"He's  paying  dear,"  he  said. 

She  noticed  the  break  in  his  voice. 

"Well  —  we  must  start  afresh,"  she  replied. 

He  looked  at  her  sharply. 

"  How  ?     We're  six  weeks  behind  with  the  men." 

"  There's  the  money  for  the  stuff  that  went  aout  last 
week.  Roach  didn't  get  that,"  she  ventured. 

The  gloom  on  his  face  deepened. 

"That's  not  mine,"  he  answered  shortly.  "Rogers 
has  got  to  have  it.  He  wants  it  plumb  bad.  It's  his. 
He  mortgaged  his  farm  to  help  me.  The  money's 
called  in.  He  must  have  it  in  a  month.  I  can't  save 
myself  by  another  man's  ruin." 

She  drew  a  long  breath. 

"A  month  !     We  can't  do  it,"  she  said. 

"We  must,"  he  answered  fiercely.  "Will  Rogers 
staked  all  he  had  to  give  me  a  start.  I  swore  he  should 
not  lose.  He  shall  have  that  money  if  I  have  to  fight 
my  way  to  him  with  it." 

"  It  may  come  to  that,"  she  said  grimly. 

She  turned  quickly.  Her  ear  had  caught  the  sound 
of  a  footstep  without. 


VISITING   THE    SIN  9 

"  Better  meet  nary  one  of  them  to-night,"  she  said. 

He  disappeared  into  an  inner  room. 

"  It's  come  to  sneaking  off  like  a  coward,"  he  mut- 
tered. 

"Are  you  aimin'  to  come  aout,  Naomi?  Hit's  goin' 
to  be  a  powerful  pretty  night." 

She  recognised  the  voice  of  the  young  man  who 
spoke,  but  for  a  minute  she  did  not  answer.  She  was 
thinking. 

"All  right,"  she  said,  after  that  momentary  hesitation. 
"  I'll  come  when  I've  seen  how  Texas  is  getting  on  with 
the  dishes." 

She  went  to  the  door  of  the  inner  room. 

"  I'm  going  aout  with  Frank  Sharp,"  she  said. 

Then  she  turned  quickly  and  visited  Texas  in  the 
kitchen. 

The  face  of  the  waiting  cavalier  cleared  as  she  came 
out  into  the  twilight.  He  was  a  bright-eyed,  sharp- vis- 
aged  mountaineer,  young  and  stalwart.  The  hair  that 
hung  long  in  his  neck  had  been  combed  with  exceeding 
care,  and  the  hand  that  rested  on  the  door-post  shone 
with  the  vigorousness  of  the  scrubbing  it  had  received. 
A  walk  with  Naomi  Mozingo  was  a  prize  for  which  a 
man  must  bid  high.  Not  many  men,  old  or  young,  in 
all  that  valley,  or  on  the  mountain  sides  either,  but 
would  be  ready  to  bid,  and  scarcely  one  but  would  go 
out  of  his  way  at  Naomi's  call.  They  were  not  insensi- 
ble to  beauty,  if  they  were  mountain  men.  The  soft 
ring  of  the  girl's  voice  had  more  than  once  turned  them 
aside  from  a  fixed  purpose.  That  it  had  turned  many  a 
man's  head  was  well  understood. 

"Hit'll  be  as  pretty  a  night  as  ever  you  see,"  re- 
marked the  young  man  as  they  left  the  door. 

She  did  not  answer. 

"Frank,"  she  said  after  a  moment's  silence,  "what  did 
Jim  Walker  mean  this  evening  ? " 


io  VISITING   THE    SIN 

"  What  the  rest  of  'em  mean,"  he  said,  looking  at  her 
admiringly.  "  Thar's  gittin'  to  be  a  mighty  uncomfort- 
able feel  in',  Naomi." 

"  The  men  are  fools,"  she  said,  and  she  smiled  at  him 
as  she  said  it.  "Nary  one  will  lose  by  Da-al.  But 
they've  got  to  wait." 

They  might  or  might  not  be  fools  as  a  whole,  but  that 
smile  put  one  of  the  workmen  safely  into  the  category. 

"/  know  Dai's  all  ri-ight,"  he  said,  the  long  drawl  on 
the  last  word  softening  it  wonderfully.  "  But  the  men 
are  in  a  mighty  hurry.  Yesterday  was  a  week,  Dal 
promised  'em  he'd  pay  in  seven  days.  They've  done 
expected  hit.  He's  back,  hain't  he  ?  " 

«  Yes." 

"  Has  he  got  the  money  for  the  wages  ? "  he  asked. 

She  looked  at  him  for  a  moment. 

"And  what  if  he  hasn't?"  she  demanded  in  a  tone 
softly  defiant. 

"  Hit'll  be  powerful  awkward,"  he  said. 

There  was  silence  between  them.  She  was  ponder- 
ing his  last  words.  She  understood  enough  of  the 
nature  of  these  men  to  know  that  it  would  be  "  powerful 
awkward."  It  had  been  awkward  enough  since  George 
Roach,  the  mill  owner's  partner,  had  gathered  together 
all  the  available  cash  and  disappeared.  That  was  a 
month  ago.  Naomi  Mozingo  had  never  doubted  the 
possibility  of  working  through  the  difficulty  —  until  to- 
night. 

"Awkward  or  not,"  she  said  at  last,"  "it's  plumb 
certain  they've  got  to  wa-it." 

"  Hain't  Dal  aimin'  to  pay  ?  Hain't  he  got  nothin'  for 
they-uns  ? "  asked  the  young  man. 

"  Frank,"  she  said,  "  it's  safe  to  tell  you.  I  can  trust 
you  anywhere" — he  drew  himself  up  an  inch  or  two 
higher  —  "  and  with  anything.  We've  got  to  earn  that 
money  before  it'll  come." 


VISITING   THE   SIN  II 

He  stopped,  and  looked  in  her  face.  The  last  faint 
rays  of  light  were  playing  upon  it.  In  that  fading  light 
the  eyes  had  grown  wistful  and  sad.  They  looked 
straight  into  those  of  the  young  man  —  and  won. 

"  Hit  hain't  goin'  to  be  my  fault  if  thar's  ary  trouble," 
he  said.  "I'll  he'p  all  I  know  how,  but  lor,  they're 
plumb  crazy." 


12  VISITING   THE   SIN 


CHAPTER   II 

"fTTlHE  tree's  done  killed  pappy ! " 

The  words  burst  forth  in  a  shrill,  weak  voice, 

JL  the  weird  mournf  ulness  of  which  struck  cold  to 
the  heart  of  one  listener,  at  least.  He  was  crossing  the 
threshold  of  the  log  cabin  as  the  child  spoke,  and  the 
blue,  quivering  lips  were  close  to  his  heart.  They  had 
been  still  ever  since  he  started  with  her  towards  the 
house.  Now  they  opened,  and  that  one  startling  sen- 
tence escaped  them. 

"  Killed  your  pappy ! " 

A  woman  turned  from  the  hearth.  She  took  a  step 
towards  the  young  man  as  if  she  would  snatch  the  little 
girl  from  his  arms,  then  stopped,  removed  the  pipe  from 
her  mouth,  and  glared  at  the  mill  owner. 

"  Yes,  killed  him  plumb  dead." 

The  words  ended  in  a  gasp.  Dalbert  Mozingo  looked 
down  into  the  colourless  face,  and  noted  the  effort  the 
child  made. 

"You've  done  killed  her,  too,  I  reckon,"  said  the 
woman,  nodding  her  head  towards  the  little  girl,  but  ad- 
dressing Dalbert. 

The  heavy  features  of  the  speaker  had  taken  upon 
themselves  an  expression  of  savage  moroseness.  She 
laid  her  pipe  on  the  narrow  mantel-shelf,  and  waited  for 
the  mill  owner  to  speak. 

"  She's  hurt,"  he  said  hurriedly.  "  A  tree  fell  on  her, 
and  —  him.  I've  sent  for  the  doctor." 

"  A  powerful  sight  o'  good  hit' 11  du  to  send  for  a  doc- 
tor for  a  dead  man,"  said  the  woman  savagely.  "  Whose 
fault  was  hit  he  was  under  the  tree?  Hit's  you-uns 
that  'ticed  my  man,  and  every  other  man,  to  cut  down 


VISITING   THE    SIN  13 

good  trees  jist  to  put  money  in  your  pocket.  If  he'd  'a 
listened  to  me,  he'd  never  'a  chopped  another  tree  for  a 
man  that  cain't  pay  and  don't  mean  to  pay." 

The  mill  owner  made  no  answer.  He  carried  the 
child  to  one  of  the  four  beds  that  filled  the  four  corners 
of  the  room,  choosing  the  one  nearest  to  the  hinged 
shutter,  which,  swinging  wide  on  this  April  day,  left 
open  a  square  hole  in  the  wall, —  sole  window  to  afford 
light  to  the  interior. 

"Better  not  touch  her  till  doc  gets  here,"  he  said. 
"  Her  arm's  broke.  The  less  she's  handled,  the  better." 

"  I  reckon,"  replied  the  woman,  in  a  dull,  hard  tone. 

She  sank  upon  the  chair  from  which  she  had  risen, 
and  put  a  lump  of  tobacco  into  her  mouth.  Then  she 
resumed  her  stare  into  the  fire. 

She  asked  no  questions  about  the  accident,  and  the 
young  man  turned  again  to  the  child.  She  was  a  little 
girl  of  nine  or  thereabouts,  and  the  mill  owner  shuddered 
as  he  saw  the  flaxen  hair  dyed  red  with  blood  that  was 
not  her  own.  He  had  shuddered  before,  when  he  saw 
the  two  heads  lying  so  near  together, —  the  man's  and 
the  little  child's.  The  rosy  bloom  of  the  Judas  tree  was 
not  the  only  red  that  had  coloured  the  mountain  side 
that  afternoon.  When  Dalbert  Mozingo  sprang  up  the 
rocks  in  answer  to  a  wild  cry  that  came  ringing  down 
the  mountain,  he  saw  the  two  faces  lying  very  close, 
separated  only  by  the  ruddy  stream  that  was  widening 
between  them. 

"Pappy's  killed  !  "  shrieked  the  little  girl ;  and  he  did 
not  contradict  her. 

The  face  so  near  to  hers  was  stiffening  already.  The 
blood  would  not  flow  long.  The  tree  that  had  struck 
the  child  to  the  ground  had  fallen  upon  the  body  of  the 
man  in  such  a  way  as  to  crush  the  life  out,  even  if  the 
blow  on  the  forehead  had  not  been  severe  enough  to 
cause  death.  Dalbert  had  turned  his  attention  to  the 
little  girl. 


I4  VISITING   THE    SIN 

"  Where  are  you  hurt  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Every whars,"  replied  the  child.  Then,  as  he  lifted 
her,  she  tried  to  stretch  out  her  hand.  "  Pappy,  oh, 
pappy  !  "  she  moaned,  and  fell  back  with  a  shriek. 

"  You  must  not  try  to  use  that  arm  :  it  is  broken  !  " 
the  young  man  exclaimed  hastily,  taking  the  injured 
limb  in  a  firm  grasp  lest  she  should  hurt  herself  more. 

She  had  lain  very  still  while  he  carried  her  home.  He 
thought  she  had  fainted.  But  now  her  eyes  were  wide 
open. 

"How  came  the  tree  to  fall  on  pappy?"  he  asked, 
the  grim  silence  of  the  woman  making  the  moments 
seem  long. 

The  child  stared  at  him  with  mournful  eyes. 

"He  was  cursin'  at  you,"  she  said,  with  startling  dis- 
tinctness. "  He'd  chopped  a  right  smart  inter  the  tree, 
and  all  at  once  he  stopped  to  say  a  curse  agin  you,  and 
afore  he  could  finish  hit  the  tree  come  plumb  atop  o' 
him  and  me.  He  never  spoke  no  more  atter  that." 

A  curse  against  him  —  and  on  a  dying  man's  lips ! 
The  face  of  the  mill  owner  darkened. 

"  I  reckon  the  curse  '11   stick  if  he  didn't  finish  hit !  " 

The  words  were  emphasized  by  a  deliberate  and 
vicious  spit  at  the  fire,  the  tobacco  juice  from  the 
woman's  mouth  sizzling  vindictively  as  it  reached  the 
hot  embers.  The  dark  blood  rose  to  the  young  man's 
forehead.  The  effect  of  the  words  was  visible  on 
another  face  also.  A  pair  of  eyes  flashed,  and  lips 
opened  as  if  to  speak.  They  closed  again,  however, 
and  the  boy  to  whom  they  belonged  leaned  back  against 
the  wall  and  fixed  his  gaze  on  the  mill  owner.  Perhaps 
he  was  waiting  for  him  to  answer.  If  so,  he  was 
disappointed. 

For  a  long  time  there  was  silence  in  the  room.  The 
mill  owner  was  thinking  that  Lemuel  Sutton  had  always 
been  a  hindrance  to  his  progress.  He  had  from  the 


VISITING   THE    SIN  15 

first  been  suspicious  of  the  young  man,  for  a  long  time 
refusing  him  the  right  to  pass  through  a  piece  of  rough 
mountain  land  in  his  possession.  It  was  the  nearest 
route  from  the  stream  to  the  road  beyond. 

"  We-uns  done  without  a  mill  afore  you-all  come,  and 
we  can  du  without  hit  yit,"  he  said. 

He  had  kept  up  his  opposition  until  another  outlet, 
less  satisfactory,  but  more  available,  had  been  almost 
decided  upon,  and  then  come  to  terms.  But  he  had 
never  grown  friendly  towards  the  mill  or  its  owner,  and 
his  voice  had  been  the  loudest  in  outcry  when  the  money 
ran  short.  That  he  had  died  with  a  curse  against  the 
mill  owner  on  his  lips  Dalbert  could  well  believe. 

The  minutes  passed.  The  woman  stared  at  the  fire, 
and  the  boy  stared  at  the  mill  owner.  The  stare  was  of  a 
different  character  in  the  two  cases,  however.  The  one 
was  vicious,  the  other  friendly. 

"Howdy,  Jane." 

A  neighbour  poked  her  head  in  at  the  door,  and  peered 
curiously  round  the  room.  Then  she  allowed  her  body 
to  follow  her  head. 

"Howdy,"  she  repeated,  aiming  her  second  greeting 
at  the  mill  owner,  who  sat  on  the  edge  of  the  bed,  hold- 
ing the  little  broken  arm 

"They're  bringin'  your  man  home,"  she  added,  walk- 
ing over  towards  the  fireplace. 

The  woman  by  the  fire  neither  spoke  nor  moved  in 
answer,  only  her  lips  formed  themselves  into  the  right 
curves  to  eject  a  great  squirt  of  tobacco  juice  that  with 
unerring  aim  was  shot  at  the  one  stick  of  wood  yet 
glowing  on  the  hearth.  The  boy  took  his  shoulders 
away  from  their  contact  with  the  logs  and  went  to  the 
door. 

"  Yes,  they're  a-bringin'  of  him,  mammy,"  he  said. 

"  Bringin'  of  him  home !  "  ejaculated  the  woman,  in  a 
loud,  hard  tone.  "And  whose  fault  is  hit  they're 


16  VISITING   THE    SIN 

a-bringin'  of  him  home  that  away  —  carry  in'  him  like  a 
log,  and  him  not  able  to  he'p  himself  ? " 

"It  was  an  unfortunate  accident,"  said  the  mill  owner 
soothingly,  "but  I  don't  know  that  anybody's  to  blame." 

The  woman  turned  upon  him. 

"He  was  killed  a-doin'  you-uns'  work,"  she  said.  "If 
you -all  hadn't  come  here,  he'd  'a  been  alive  now.  Did 
we-uns  want  to  cut  the  trees  down  ?  Them  young  uns 
hain't  got  no  pappy,  and  I  hain't  got  no  man,  all  along 
o'  you." 

Dalbert  Mozingo  recoiled.  The  savage  animosity  of 
the  words  carried  a  sort  of  conviction  with  them.  For 
the  moment  he  felt  himself  the  murderer  of  Lemuel 
Sutton. 

"  Pappy  was  tight !  " 

The  sounds  were  hurled  into  the  stillness  of  the 
room.  The  boyish,  unhesitating  tones  cleared  away  a 
mist  from  Dalbert' s  brain.  He  could  understand  the 
accident  now. 

"You  shet  yer  mouth,"    said  the  woman  savagely. 

"Rhody  knows,"  continued  the  boy,  undaunted. 
"  She's  pappy's  gal.  She's  been  atter  him  since  noon. 
Warn't  he  drunk,  Rhody  ?  " 

"Yes,  he  was  powerful  drunk,"  said  the  child  slowly. 
"  He  tuk  another  dram  jist  afore  he  begun  choppin'  that 
tree." 

There  was  a  movement  about  the  door. 

"  Better  keen  up  the  fire,  Jane,"  recommended  the 
neighbour.  "Hit  may  be  wanted.  They're  tol'rable 
near  now." 

They  were  bringing  the  dead  man  across  the  thresh- 
old. 

"  Oh,  lor  !  Mercy  sakes  !  Lue-uke  at  the  young  un  ! 
She's  as  white  as  her  pappy.  Oh,  lor,  hit's  a  si-ight." 

A  crowd  of  women  and  children  trooped  in  after  the 
sober-visaged  men  who  bore  the  body  of  the  wood- 


VISITING   THE    SIN  17 

chopper.  Three  or  four  masculine  forms  brought  up 
the  rear.  The  space  between  the  beds  was  becoming 
full. 

"  Make  way  there,  friends." 

"  Here's  the  doc ! " 

The  man  who  pushed  through  the  crowd  around  the 
door  was  a  fine  specimen  of  the  mountaineer.  He  stood 
six  feet  two  without  his  shoes,  and  was  sufficiently  stout 
of  limb  to  be  well  proportioned. 

•"  Put  him  on  the  bed,"  he  directed,  sweeping  off  from 
one  of  the  remaining  three  resting  places  the  occupants 
who  had  taken  possession.  "  Thar's  nothin'  to  be  done 
for  hi-im." 

The  long  drawn  out  final  word  was  uttered  as  he 
turned  towards  the  little  girl. 

"  And  so  you  got  hurt  too,  Rhody  ? " 

His  fingers  were  already  feeling  for  broken  bones. 

"  Don't !  "  said  the  child,  sharply.  "  Let  him  du  hit. 
His  hands  don't  hurt  like  yourn." 

She  was  looking  towards  Dalbert. 

"  Git  aout  o'  thar !  " 

The  mother  of  the  child  stood  by  the  mill  owner's 
side. 

"  Yes,  I'll  go  now,"  he  said,  with  an  air  of  relief.  "  I 
was  caring  a  little  too  much  to  leave  her  till  doc  come." 

"Don't!"  repeated  the  little  girl  impatiently,  as  the 
doctor's  fingers  came  in  contact  with  the  bruised  body. 
"  I  hain't  aimin'  to  be  hurt  no  more  'n  I  can  he'p.  Let 
Dal  feel.  His  fingers  don't  poke  inter  me  like  yourn." 

The  small  mouth  was  drawn  with  pain.  Very  evi- 
dently the  broken  arm  was  not  the  full  extent  of  the 
injury. 

"You  must  let  the  doctor  see  where  you're  hurt, 
Rhody,"  said  the  mill  owner,  in  a  soothing  tone.  "He 
can't  make  you  better  without." 

"  Hain't   he  seed   enough  ? "   said  the  child  wearily. 


18  VISITING   THE    SIN 

"  I  aches  every whars.     He  hurts  more  'n  the  tree.     You 
feel,  and  let  him  take  his  hands  away." 

Thus  it  happened  that  in  the  examination  which  fol- 
lowed it  was  the  mill  owner's  fingers  that  loosened  the 
child's  clothing,  and  the  mill  owner's  voice  that  spoke 
comforting  words.  Before  the  broken  bone  was  set,  the 
small  face  had  grown  whiter  than  before,  and  it  mat- 
tered little  to  Rhody  whose  hands  touched  the  aching 
limb.  Her  eyes  were  closed,  and  the  doctor  experienced 
no  opposition  to  his  will. 

"Oh,  lor,  mercy  sakes,  she's  white  as  death!  Hit 
won't  be  long  afore  she's  laid  aside  o'  her  pappy." 

"Yes,  and  that  comes  o'  takin'  up  with  foreigners. 
Would  my  man  ever  'a  been  layin'  thar  that  away  if  he 
hadn't  come  ? " 

The  speaker  pointed  a  finger  at  Dalbert. 

"Hit'll  be  the  child  next,"  she  continued.  "Hain't 
thar  death  plain  enough  in  her  face  ? " 

The  crowd  squeezed  nearer  to  the  bed.  Dalbert  and 
the  doctor  were  still  busy  over  the  fainting  child. 

"Thar,  that's  all  I  can  do  for  her,"  announced  the 
doctor  at  length,  straightening  himself  up  and  breathing 
a  sigh  of  relief. 

"  Is  there  serious  injury  ? "  asked  the  mill  owner,  in  a 
low  voice. 

"  Serious  enough,"  replied  the  other  cautiously.  "  I 
hain't  expectin'  to  attend  to  that  arm  agin.  I  sot  hit 
for  fear  she'd  pull  through,  but  I  hain't  reckonin'  on 
hit." 

"  Poor  little  thing !  "  said  the  mill  owner,  softly.  "  I 
reckon  I'll  go  before  she  comes  to." 

"Well,  Mrs.  Sutton,"  he  continued,  in  a  louder  voice, 
"we've  done  all  we  can  for  Rhody  here.  She'll  come 
to  herself  after  a  bit.  And  when  you  get  over  this  a 
little,  you'll  own  that  I  had  nothing  to  do  with  the  acci- 
dent." 


VISITING   THE    SIN  19 

"I  shain't  own  nothin'  o'  the  sort,"  she  snapped. 
"  That  gal  'ud  'a  been  runnin'  around,  and  her  pappy  a- 
settin'  thar,  smokin'  his  pipe,  if  you-all  hadn't  never 
come." 

"Well,  well,"  said  Dalbert,  a  little  sharply,  "you're  in 
trouble  now,  and  you  don't  see  straight.  I'll  go." 

"  I'd  'a  been  mighty  proud  if  you'd  'a  gone  sooner." 

They  were  her  parting  words. 

When  he  had  crossed  the  threshold  the  mill  owner 
drew  a  deep  breath.  The  dark,  cool  woods  were  before 
him.  He  plunged  into  them.  Here,  at  least,  he  would 
be  free  from  his  enemies.  How  bitter  the  woman  had 
been  !  And  she  was  not  the  only  one  who  was  ready  to 
lay  every  ill  to  the  door  of  an  employer  who  had  taken 
the  work  of  the  men  and  found  himself  unable  to  pay 
for  the  same. 

Dalbert  Mozingo  was  not  at  all  sure  what  the  out- 
come would  be.  Unless  the  men  would  keep  on  work- 
ing, and  give  him  time,  there  would  be  as  little  chance 
of  paying  in  the  future  as  in  the  present.  His  face  was 
dark  as  the  shadow  in  the  woods.  After  his  experience 
of  that  afternoon,  he  was  looking  on  the  dark  side  of 
things.  Why  not  ?  The  brightness  never  realised  it- 
self, he  argued.  He  started  when  a  hand  was  laid  on 
his  arm. 

"Hullo!" 

A  boy  stepped  out  from  behind  a  tree. 

"  Why,  Lem,  I  didn't  know  you'd  left  the  house." 

"  Yes.     I  come  aout  to  meet  you." 

The  bright  eyes  that  had  stared  in  his  face  as  he 
waited  for  the  doctor  were  looking  up  at  him  now. 
There  was  silence  for  a  minute.  Dalbert  had  come  to 
a  stand. 

"  Don't  you  take  no  notice  o'  mammy.  Pappy  was 
tight." 

The  young  voice  was  urgent. 


20  VISITING   THE    SIN 

«  Yes  —  I  know." 

"Hit  hain't  no  fault  o'  yourn." 

"  No.     But  I'm  sorry." 

"You  needn't.  You  hadn't  nary  thing  to  du  with 
hit." 

The  last  words  were  spoken  from  a  distance.  Lem 
had  backed  into  the  shadow  of  the  trees,  a  sudden  shy- 
ness taking  possession  of  him.  The  next  moment  he 
had  disappeared. 


VISITING   THE   SIN  21 


CHAPTER   III 

THE  day  was  hot,  a  typical  April  day  for  the  Ken- 
tucky mountains, —  a  June  day  a  Northerner 
might  have  called  it.  Cedar  Fork,  by  which 
name  the  stream  that  ran  past  the  mill  was  known 
further  on,  where  its  valley  widened  out  and  boasted  an 
acre  or  two  of  level  ground,  shone  clear  beneath  the 
sun's  rays.  So  did  a  spring  that,  to  use  the  phrase- 
ology of  the  Cedar  Fork  land,  "boiled  up"  by  the  road- 
side at  a  spot  yet  more  remote.  A  man  wearing  a 
broad-brimmed  hat  and  a  red  shirt  stooped  to  put  his 
mouth  on  a  level  with  the  rock  from  which  the  water 
gushed  out. 

"  That's  tol'rable  refreshin',"  he  said,  wiping  the  heat 
drops  from  his  face,  and  stopping  to  take  breath  after 
his  deep  draught. 

The  red  shirt  glowed  hot  in  the  sunshine,  and  above 
it  the  dark  hair  of  the  wearer  hung  low.  The  hair  bore 
signs  of  little  extra  attention.  The  red  handkerchief 
also,  that  surmounted  the  warm-tinted  shirt,  was  ad- 
justed with  precision.  The  preacher  did  not  forget  his 
position  in  the  community.  To-day  was  Sunday,  and  he 
was  bound  for  the  "church-house"  at  Cedar  Fork.  He 
was  warranted  in  expecting  a  good  attendance  there,  for, 
since  the  mill  was  started,  men  had  poured  into  the 
hamlet.  The  neighbourhood  of  Cedar  Fork  might  be 
slow  to  welcome  the  invasion  of  a  saw-mill,  but  it  was 
not  slow  to  secure  a  share  of  the  mill  owner's  money. 

The  preacher  lifted  his  head,  and  looked  at  the  sun. 

"  The  evenin's  drawin'  away  tol'rable  smart,"  he  said, 
and  resumed  his  walk. 

In  reality,  it  was  but  two  hours  past  noon.     The  par- 


22  VISITING  THE    SIN 

ticular  time  in  the  "  evening  "  at  which  service  was  to  be 
looked  for  in  the  Cedar  Fork  "church-house"  was  three 
o'clock. 

"Howdy,  girls,"  said  the  preacher,  with  the  ready 
courtesy  of  the  region  greeting  two  maidens  who  came 
to  a  cabin  door  at  the  sound  of  footsteps. 

He  walked  on,  wrapped  in  meditation.  His  thoughts 
were  of  the  congregation  that  had  that  morning  gath- 
ered ten  miles  further  back  among  the  mountains  to 
listen  to  the  discourse  he  was  about  to  repeat  in  Cedar 
Fork  valley.  Some  of  his  hearers  had  hardly  yet 
reached  their  homes.  They  thought  little  of  riding 
many  miles  to  and  from  the  service.  And  Elisha  Tiller 
thought  less  of  preaching  twice  or  thrice  on  a  Sunday, 
and  walking  twenty  miles  between  services  when,  as 
to-day,  the  lameness  of  his  mule  necessitated  the 
exertion. 

"  Howdy,  babies." 

He  was  passing  two  healthy,  grimy-faced  youngsters 
tumbling  over  one  another  and  over  the  low  cabin  steps 
in  their  eagerness  to  get  a  sight  of  the  preacher. 

"  Howdy,  boys,"  he  added  a  minute  later,  when  two 
lads  came  to  a  stand  by  a  gate  leading  into  a  field. 

The  road  was  becoming  less  deserted.  From  bridle- 
path and  mountain  track  a  sprinkling  of  horsemen  and 
foot  travellers  turned  into  the  valley  road.  Now  and 
then  a  horse  or  mule  carried  double,  the  good  wife  riding 
behind  her  husband,  her  generous  sun-bonnet  sheltering 
her  face,  her  arm  encircling  the  waist  of  her  lord. 

"Howdy,"  said  the  preacher,  in  cordial  greeting,  as 
one  and  another  passed  him. 

The  "church-house"  at  Cedar  Fork  was  a  square 
log  structure,  peculiarly  well  adapted  to  the  summer 
needs  of  the  valley.  That  is  to  say,  it  was  peculiarly 
ill  adapted  to  the  winter  needs  of  the  same.  Windows 
were  hardly  essential  features  of  the  edifice.  The  spaces 


VISITING   THE    SIN  23 

between  the  logs  could  well  serve  the  purpose.  In 
winter  it  was  necessary  to  sit  in  a  square  close  around 
the  big  rusty  stove,  for  the  rain  had  a  trick  of  blowing 
in  squalls  through  the  room.  The  stove  occupied  the 
exact  centre  of  the  floor;  and  the  rain  and  snow  had 
been  known  to  fall  sizzling  upon  its  surface,  swept  sheer 
across  through  the  big  gaps  in  the  outer  walls. 

The  "church-house"  stood  on  level  ground  at  the  top 
of  a  hill,  up  which  the  road  sloped  sharply.  To-day  no- 
body would  have  passed  it  without  notice.  It  might  be 
an  insignificant  log  building  at  ordinary  times,  but  not 
when  those  mountain  men  and  women  were  gathered 
around  it.  The  "  church-house  "  would  never  lack  char- 
acter with  those  rugged  faces  in  the  foreground.  Tem- 
pestuous as  the  wind-swept  heights  of  their  native  land, 
the  mountaineers  had  imbibed  along  with  her  simplicity 
the  wildness  of  nature  as  they  knew  her.  There  was 
not  an  insignificant  face  among  them,  but  there  was 
more  than  one  fierce  one. 

The  occasion  was  the  monthly  preaching  service,  but 
that  did  not  hinder  the  men  from  bringing  their  guns 
along  with  them.  They  felt  more  at  home  when  thus 
equipped,  and  at  any  time  a  squirrel,  or  larger  game, 
might  cross  their  path. 

Some  half-dozen  of  the  company  had  drawn  together 
in  a  group.  There  was  a  discussion  going  on.  At  least, 
it  was  to  be  inferred  that  there  was  a  discussion. 
Raised  voices  and  impatient  ejaculations,  with  here  and 
there  a  curse,  reached  the  ears  of  those  outside  the 
immediate  circle.  Gradually  the  scattered  figures  drew 
round  those  others  as  a  centre. 

"Hit  hain't  no  good  squeezin'.  You  cain't  squeeze 
blood  aout  of  a  post  if  you  du  try." 

"  I  reckon  thar's  a  leetle  blood  left  in  Dalbert  Mo- 
zingo  yit,"  came  the  answer,  in  a  sneering  tone. 
"  Thar's  ways  of  drivin'  a  leetle  of  hit  ao-ut,  if  hit  hain't 
no  good  to  sque-eze." 


24  VISITING   THE    SIN 

The  speaker  glanced  at  his  gun  as  he  spoke. 

"Whar's  the  good  o'  spoilin'  everybody's  chance?" 
demanded  the  other,  hotly.  "  If  the  mill  stops,  we-all 
lose  money  and  work  too." 

"I  reckon,"  was  the  answer,  spoken  slowly.  "And 
what  '11  Dal  lose  ?  Tell  me  tha-at." 

"  Hit  hain't  goin'  to  du  us  ary  bit  o'  good  to  make  him 
lose,"  replied  the  first  speaker,  his  face  growing  red  with 
the  excitement  of  the  argument. 

"  That's  hit,"  chimed  in  another.  "  Hit  hain't  goin'  to 
du  us  a  mite  o1  good  to  hurt  Dal." 

"  Hain't  hit  ? "  demanded  his  opponent,  savagely. 
"  Hit's  goin'  to  du  me  a  sight  o'  good.  Hit  'ud  be  a 
mighty  pretty  sight  to  me  to  see  a  bullet  put  through 
his  black  heart." 

"  Hit  hain't  no  blacker  'n  yourn,  I  reckon,"  said  Frank 
Sharp  angrily. 

"  Hain't  hit  ?  "  was  the  sneering  answer.  "  Who  said 
so  ?  Naomi  ?  How  many  kisses  did  she  promise  ye  to 
stick  up  for  her  precious  brother  ? " 

Just  what  would  have  been  the  reply  is  not  known, 
for  at  that  moment  the  red  shirt  of  the  preacher  was 
seen  upon  the  brow  of  the  hill. 

"  Howdy,"  he  said,  in  loud,  cheerful  tones. 

Part  of  the  congregation  followed  him  into  the  build- 
ing. The  mountain  folk  were  a  church-going  people. 
The  argument  outside  was  interrupted.  Frank  Sharp 
was  among  the  men  who  went  into  the  house. 

There  were  mutterings  of  wrath  without.  Public 
opinion  was  sharply  divided  on  the  subject  of  the  mill 
owner  and  his  sister.  Frank  Sharp  was  not  the  only 
man  who  looked  at  the  question  in  a  light  thrown  upon 
it  by  a  girl's  face.  The  mill  owner's  sister  had  more  in- 
fluence over  the  men  whom  her  brother  employed  than 
any  of  those  men  would  have  been  quite  willing  to  ac- 
knowledge. If  Naomi  Moztfngo  had  not  been  at  Cedar 


VISITING   THE    SIN  25 

Fork,  it  is  safe  to  say  that  the  whir  of  wheels  would  not 
at  this  juncture  have  been  heard  there. 

Neither  Dalbert  Mozingo  nor  his  sister  was  among 
the  worshippers.  This  was  not  because  either  was  in- 
different to  the  privilege  of  attending  the  monthly  ser- 
vice, but  because  neither  felt  inclined  to  mingle  freely 
with  the  Cedar  Fork  people  under  the  present  circum- 
stances. 

The  winter  arrangement  of  seats  was  still  in  evidence 
within  the  "  church-house."  It  was  more  convenient  so. 
If  the  stove  was  not  wanted  for  heat,  it  was  still  very 
surely  wanted.  How  else  could  there  be  as  natural 
a  common  centre  towards  which,  with  thoughtful  pre- 
cision, preacher  and  congregation  could  spit  ? 

The  footsteps  of  the  gathering  people  sounded  loud 
upon  the  puncheon  floor.  The  seats  around  the  stove 
were  taken  up.  One  by  one  the  men  dropped  in,  to 
balance  themselves  upon  the  narrow  bench  made  from  a 
chopped  out  rail  and  located  near  the  door.  There  were 
some  who  sat  on  a  log  outside.  It  was  conveniently 
near  the  door.  The  words  of  the  preacher  could  be 
plainly  heard,  and  when  he  grew  eloquent,  and  his  voice 
rose  and  rose  till  the  deep  purple  of  his  face  bore  wit- 
ness to  the  honest  effort  he  was  making  in  behalf  of  his 
hearers,  they  were  in  a  good  position  to  benefit  by  his 
discourse. 

Elisha  Tiller  was  not  the  man  to  cheat  his  congrega- 
tion with  a  mild,  gentle  application  of  the  gospel.  These 
were  the  old  days,  for  in  the  year  1875  the  old  methods 
yet  prevailed  in  the  Kentucky  mountains.  A  preacher 
must  be  strong  of  lung  to  arouse  his  hearers  to  enthu- 
siasm. Elisha' s  lungs  were  irreproachable,  and  he  had  a 
reputation  for  eloquence. 

In  anticipation  of  such  eloquence  a  tin  pail  had  been 
placed  conveniently  close  to  the  good  man's  feet.  It  was 
rilled  with  the  purest  of  spring  water  but  a  few  minutes 


26  VISITING   THE    SIN 

before  he  entered.  A  gourd  with  a  curiously  curved  handle 
floated  invitingly  on  its  surface.  It  was  well  that  gourd  and 
water  were  handy.  There  were  times  when  the  preacher 
exhausted  the  resources  of  even  his  powerful  frame, 
when  his  voice  rose  and  rose  till  the  largest  volume  of 
sound  possible  for  it  to  produce  rolled  through  the  yawn- 
ing crevices  of  the  logs  and  out  of  the  open  door,  and 
the  speaker  gave  vent  to  a  gasping  "ah  ! "  ejected  from 
his  mouth  the  last  remnant  of  moisture  it  contained,  and 
had  recourse  to  the  pail  and  the  gourd.  It  was  with  the 
ease  of  long  practice  that  he  carried  the  water  to  his 
lips,  and  emptied  the  gourd  without  the  loss  of  a  single 
drop. 

It  was  not  irreverent, —  that  long,  exhausting  torrent 
of  words,  and  the  vigorous  spit  with  which  the  eloquence 
concluded.  It  was  a  sign  of  the  earnestness  of  the 
preacher,  and  it  never  failed  to  attract  the  best  attention 
of  the  hearers. 

On  this  "evening,"  as  the  preacher  proceeded,  he  grew 
especially  energetic.  Without  stopping  in  his  remarks, 
he  rolled  up  the  sleeves  of  his  red  shirt,  and  stood  with 
sinewy  arms  bared  for  the  struggle  with  his  discourse. 

"  That's  powerful  convincing"  whispered  a  good  wife 
to  her  husband. 

A  more  than  ordinarily  emphatic  spit  at  the  rusty 
stove  was  his  answer.  The  preacher's  voice  was  rising 
again. 

It  was  when  it  had  reached  its  highest  point,  and  was 
almost  ready  for  that  final  "ah"  with  which  exhausted 
nature  for  the  moment  gave  up  the  contest,  that  the 
report  of  a  gun  brought  the  congregation  to  their  feet. 
That  "ah"  was  never  uttered.  A  woman  shrieked. 

"  Mercy  on  us  !     Oh,  lor  !  they're  shootin'." 

There  was  a  rush  for  the  door,  and  then  a  recoil. 

"Keep  away  from  thar  !  You'll  git  shot !  "  shrieked 
a  mother,  clutching  a  venturesome  boy  by  the  arm. 


VISITING   THE    SIN  27 

"  Hit's  Mat  Hutsel !  He's  the  fightin'est  man  I  ever 
seed." 

It  was  Mat  Hutsel,  the  savage-looking  mountaineer 
who  had  declared  himself  anxious  to  put  a  bullet  through 
Dalbert  Mozingo's  heart.  He  was  over  free  with  his 
bullets.  One  of  them  had  nearly  gone  through  the 
head  of  Beth  Morgan,  a  young  man  who  had  been  sit- 
ting on  the  same  log  by  the  "church-house"  door. 
Beth  belonged  to  the  opposite  faction.  "  That  witch  gal, 
Naomi,  had  spelt  him,"  Mat  had  sneeringly  declared. 

It  was  a  pity  somebody  had  not  "  spelt  "  (bewitched) 
Mat  himself.  Any  kind  of  a  spell  that  could  charm 
away  his  savagery  would  have  been  for  the  good  of  the 
community.  Mat  had  been  drinking.  From  his  pocket 
a  bottle  had  more  than  once  been  produced  while  the 
preacher  was  talking. 

*  Take  a  drap?"  he  had  said,  once,  twice,  thrice 
passing  the  bottle  to  his  neighbours. 

Every  time  he  offered  it  he  took  a  long  pull  at  it 
himself.  The  whisky  was  the  regular  home  article, 
made  among  the  mountains,  in  stills  that  were  not  open 
to  inspection.  It  was  strong,  and  Mat  had  drunk  more 
than  a  little  of  it  before  he  came  to  the  "church-house." 
The  last  "drap"  had  passed  his  lips  less  than  two 
minutes  before  the  gun  shot  was  heard.  The  corn 
whisky  had  fired  his  brain.  Mat  was  ready  for  a  quarrel. 

And  the  young  man  whom  he  began  to  taunt  about 
Naomi,  speaking  the  words  in  a  low  sneering  tone  that 
was  yet  audible  all  along  the  log  seat,  had  taken  too 
many  mouthfuls  from  the  same  bottle  to  be  quite  as  cool 
as  he  might  have  been.  There  was  a  moment  when  he 
answered  the  taunt,  and  then  there  was  the  ringing 
shot. 

"  Stop  that !     Mat  Hutsel,  drap  that  gun ! " 

The  preacher  was  at  the  door,  the  women  and  chil- 
dren crowding  round  him  or  following  behind  him. 


28  VISITING   THE   SIN 

Another  shot  was  the  only  answer.  It  came  perilously 
near  being  fired  right  into  the  shrieking  crowd. 

Back  they  tumbled,  in  wild  confusion. 

"  Shet  the  door  !  You'll  be  shot !  Come  in,  Elisha ! 
Come  in,  you !  " 

A  woman  pulled  her  half-grown  boy  inside  the  build- 
ing, and  succeeded  in  shutting  the  door.  The  preacher 
was  yet  outside. 

"  Stop  that  shootin',  I  say !  Hain't  this  house  a  house 
o'  worship  ?  Hit's  a  sin  and  "  — 

But  the  preacher  got  no  further.  The  shooting  was 
becoming  general.  A  dozen  men  were  already  in  the 
fray.  A  bullet  whizzed  past  his  head  and  buried  itself 
in  the  door-post.  He  put  his  shoulder  to  the  door  and 
burst  it  open. 

"  If  they  will  shoot,  let  'em,"  he  said.  "  Thar's  lives 
worth  savin',  and  hit  hain't  no  good  throwin'  'em  away 
on  them  that's  too  plumb  crazy  to  hear  the  powerfulest 
screechin'  aimed  right  at  their  ears.  They-uns  has  got 
to  fight  hit  aout." 

They  were  fighting  it  out. 

"Oh,  lor!  Oh,  mercy!  Beth's  down.  Mat's  done 
killed  him." 

There  was  a  heavy  fall,  and  young  Beth  Morgan  lay 
motionless.  Nobody  stopped  to  lift  him.  His  friends 
were  too  busy  trying  to  pour  hot  lead  into  his  opponent, 
the  leader  of  the  attacking  party. 

Mat  Hutsel  fought  like  a  fury.  His  enemies  were 
sheltering  themselves  behind  trees.  He  advanced  a  few 
yards  in  front  of  his  victim,  and  stood  madly  courting 
attack 

"He's  hit!     Mat's  hit!" 

The  shout  was  from  the  opposite  faction. 

They  were  right;  but  Mat  stood  his  ground,  firing 
savagely  at  his  opponents,  and  calling  on  his  friends  to 
bestir  themselves. 


VISITING   THE    SIN  29 

Another  shot  told,  and  another. 

"  His  legs  is  all  mashed  up  !  " 

A  watcher  through  the  great  chinks  of  the  "  church- 
house"  excitedly  explained  the  situation  to  those  less 
favourably  situated  for  seeing. 

"  Oh,  lor !  Oh,  lor !  Hit's  awful !  He's  done  for,  but 
he's  wallerin*  on  the  ground  and  shootin'  still." 

"  Done  for  "  or  not,  the  hands  in  savage  fury  pulled 
the  trigger  of  the  gun  till  the  charge  was  exhausted. 
Then  the  wounded  man  began  crawling  away,  dragging 
after  him  the  leg  that,  shattered  in  two  places,  looked  as 
if  it  would  drop  off  on  the  road,  and  forcing  the  other, 
from  which  blood  flowed  in  streams,  to  do  duty  for  two. 
With  the  bullets  dropping  around  him,  he  crawled  pain- 
fully, but  with  amazing  swiftness.  His  goal  was  a  great 
chestnut  tree  that  stood  behind  the  body  of  Beth 
Morgan.  Its  broad  trunk  offered  inviting  shelter.  To 
die  in  ?  Not  just  yet. 

With  almost  incredible  endurance,  Mat  Hutsel  dragged 
himself  not  only  to  that  chestnut  but  up  it,  climbing  on 
the  side  farthest  from  his  enemies.  Ten  feet  from  the 
ground  the  trunk  divided.  A  broken  right  leg  and 
wounded  left  one  notwithstanding,  Mat  climbed  that 
tree  to  the  notch.  Then  laboriously  reloading  his  gun, 
he  rested  it  in  the  crook,  and  brought  his  eyes  on  a 
level.  Below  him,  only  a  couple  of  yards  away,  lay  the 
body  of  his  victim,  Beth  Morgan.  Mat's  face  was  terri- 
ble to  look  upon. 

"  Come  on !  "  he  muttered  through  his  set  teeth. 

He  was  waiting  for  death  —  and  his  enemies. 

The  latter  were  a  little  cautious  about  "coming  on." 
His  friends,  too,  were  harassing  them,  though  they  were 
a  little  less  venturesome  than  Mat.  Shots  sounded  on 
all  sides.  One  or  two  others  fell,  and  crawled  away,  or 
were  helped  away. 

"  Come  on,"  muttered  Mat  again. 


30  VISITING   THE   SIN 

The  blood  was  trickling  from  a  wound  in  his  forehead, 
and  smearing  the  white  teeth  that  gleamed  like  those  of 
a  savage  animal. 

And  at  last  one  "came  on,"  watchful,  and  ready  to 
dodge. 

"Take  that!" 

Mat's  gun  spoke,  and  Mat's  eyes  gleamed.  The 
shot  was  effective.  That  it  accomplished  less  than  the 
shooter  expected  was  perhaps  owing  to  the  fact  that  at 
the  moment  at  which  it  was  fired  Frank  Sharp  appeared 
in  the  open,  his  gun  raised  and  pointed  towards  the 
spot  where  Mat  Hutsel's  eyes  were  for  the  moment  visi- 
ble. His  object  was  to  cover  the  approach  of  the  man 
who  was  creeping  nearer  to  the  chestnut  tree. 

A  loud  oath  and  another  shot  was  Mat's  greeting  for 
the  young  man.  A  yell  of  triumph  from  the  blood- 
stained lips  told  of  his  furious  gladness  when  Frank's 
arm  fell,  broken  at  the  elbow.  It  was  a  moment  of  ex- 
ultation—  and  doom.  In  his  savage  glee  Mat  drew  him- 
self up  towards  the  notch  of  the  tree.  Now  was  his 
chance  to  put  a  bullet  through  the  young  man's  heart. 
He  forgot  that  he  was  exposing  himself. 

A  fierce  yell  brought  a  crowd  round  the  bigger  crevices 
of  the  "church-house"  walls.  Then  a  wailing  shriek 
went  up. 

"Oh,  lor!     Hit's  a  si-ight ! " 

From  the  crotch  of  the  chestnut  a  distorted  face  was 
seen  surmounting  a  reeling  figure.  Then  the  body  of 
Mat  Hutsel  fell  headlong  to  the  ground,  dropping  upon 
that  of  his  victim.  They  lay  as  if  in  close  embrace, — 
young  Beth  Morgan  and  his  murderer. 

The  sight  arrested  even  the  fierce  fury  of  those  moun- 
tain men.  The  shooters  lowered  their  guns,  and  the 
wounded  took  advantage  of  the  lull  in  the  storm  to  creep 
away.  Then  the  preacher  opened  the  door  of  the 
"church-house"  and  stepped  out  among  the  crowd. 


VISITING   THE   SIN  31 

With  burning,  eager  words  he  demanded  a  cessation  of 
hostilities.  And  the  leaders,  such  of  them  as  were  left, 
moved  sullenly  off,  and  the  wild,  short  fight  was  over. 
But  the  memory  of  it  would  linger,  and  men  would  be 
careful  how  they  went  out  after  nightfall,  for  the  love  of 
vengeance  is  a  quality  that  the  mountaineer  has  inherited 
from  his  forefathers. 

Dalbert  Mozingo  stood  by  the  door  of  the  mill.  He 
had  heard  the  shots,  and  had  gone  a  few  steps  down  the 
valley.  The  shots  were  too  frequent  to  suggest  a  lucky 
encounter  with  game.  A  faint  sound  of  shouting  had 
once  or  twice  come  to  his  ears. 

The  mill  was  a  mile  and  a  half  from  the  "church- 
house,"  with  wooded  hills  between.  The  sounds  came 
to  the  young  man's  ears  broken  and  subdued.  He  was 
wondering  a  little  uneasily  what  had  happened,  when 
Lem  Sutton  suddenly  stood  by  his  side.  The  appear- 
ance was  sudden,  for  he  had  not  seen  the  lad  approach- 
ing. 

"  Say,  Dal ! " 

The  boy  came  close  to  the  young  man,  and  fixed  a 
pair  of  eager,  startled  eyes  on  his  face. 

"  Well ! "  responded  Dalbert,  slowly. 

"  You-uns  better  go  in,  and  shet  yer  door,  and  bar  hit. 
Thar's  shooting  up  at  the  church-house." 

"Shooting!"  said  Dalbert,  in  quick  alarm.  "What 
do  they  want  to  shoot  for  ?  What's  the  row  about  ? " 

"  You,"  replied  the  boy,  significantly,  "  and  her." 

He  pointed  towards  the  rock  round  which  a  girl's 
figure  was  seen  approaching. 

"  What's  that  you're  saying  about  me  ? " 

The  soft,  half  lazy  sounds  had  a  laugh  in  them. 
Naomi  had  seen  the  pointed  finger,  and  come  up  swiftly. 

"  What's  that  you're  saying  ? " 

"They're  shootin',"  the  boy  stammered  out,  embar- 
rassed by  the  eyes  that  were  looking  at  him  with  the 
suspicion  of  a  laugh  in  them. 


32  VISITING   THE    SIN 

"  Shooting  ?     More  fools  they.     What  about  ?  " 

The  tone  was  easy,  but  the  girl's  eyes  were  keen. 
Lem  fancied  they  could  see  through  him. 

"  Hi-im  —  and  you." 

He  turned,  as  if  he  would  have  darted  away ;  but  be- 
fore one  foot  could  be  put  ahead  of  the  other  Naomi's 
hand  was  on  his  shoulder.  She  deftly  turned  him 
round,  and  looked  into  his  eyes. 

"Now,  then,  aout  with  it,"  she  said.  "What's  the 
shooting  about  ?  Who's  shooting  ?  " 

"Mat  Hutsel,  and  Frank  Sharp,  and  Beth  Morgan, — 
at  least,  Beth  was  in  hit.  He  hain't  now.  He's  dead." 

"Dead!" 

Brother  and  sister  spoke  together.  A  horror  that  was 
beyond  words  was  on  Dalbert's  face. 

"Yes.  Hit  was  in  the  preachin'.  Mat  shot  him. 
Mat's  legs  was  all  mashed ;  but  he  climb  into  that  thar 
chestnut  forenenst  the  church-house,  that  un  with  a 
divided  trunk,  and  he  stuck  his  gun  through  the  notch 
and  shot.  He  was  a-shootin'  when  I  come  to  tell  ye. 
I  seed  his  eyes  a-peerin'  through  that  thar  openin'  jist 
afore  I  started." 

Dalbert  was  too  much  engrossed  with  the  terribleness 
of  the  situation  to  appreciate  the  self-denial  that  had 
sent  young  Lem  away  from  the  fight  in  the  very  height 
of  the  excitement.  Beth  Morgan  was  dead,  and  the 
quarrel  had  been  about  him  —  Dalbert  Mozingo  —  and 
his  sister.  For  the  moment  he  was  stunned. 

"  Where  are  you  going,  Naomi  ?  " 

The  girl  was  already  many  steps  away.  He  had  not 
seen  her  start. 

"To  stop  the  shooting,"  she  said,  the  red  colour 
sweeping  in  waves  across  her  face.  "Keep  away! 
Don't  hinder  me  ! " 

This  as  he  sprang  forward,  and  laid  his  hand  on  her 
arm. 


VISITING   THE    SIN  33 

"  You  shall  not  go,"  he  said  emphatically.  "  I'm 
going  myself." 

She  turned  upon  him. 

"Dalbert  Mozingo,"  she  retorted,  "  ain't  you  got  any 
sense  ?  Do  you  think  it  will  make  them  more  jpeaceable 
to  see  you  ?  " 

"  Perhaps  not."  His  tone  was  bitter.  "  I  make  no 
claim  to  popularity,  but  they  can  at  least  shoot  me 
instead  of  one  another.  It  might  be  more  just." 

"  Don't  be  a  fool,"  she  said,  impatiently  breaking  away 
from  him.  "If  you  come,  you  will  put  my  life  in 
danger,  and  do  no  good  anyway." 

She  was  speeding  over  the  ground  in  the  direction  of 
the  log  church  as  she  spoke,  the  angry  colour  still 
flaring  across  her  face. 

Dalbert  looked  after  her,  and  hesitated. 

"  I  might  as  well  be  shot  as  have  everlastingly  to  play 
the  part  of  a  coward,"  he  said. 

Her  answer  was  a  laugh. 

"There's  lots  of  courage  in  doing  a  foolish  thing, 
ain't  there  ? "  she  called  back. 

"You  better  do  as  she  says.  They-uns  are  power- 
ful mad." 

Even  at  that  moment  Dalbert  could  not  fail  to  see 
something  of  the  pride  that  shone  in  the  boy's  eyes. 
The  feeling  of  comradeship  was  strong  in  the  heart  of 
Lem  Sutton.  For  the  time  he  was  one  with  the  mill 
owner.  Dalbert  did  not  guess  that  the  small  lad  had 
long  ago  accepted  him  as  an  object  of  worship,  and  that 
this  moment,  when  he  could  feel  that  he  was  essential 
to  the  safety  of  his  hero,  was  one  of  the  proudest  in  his 
short  life. 

"  You  go  in  the  house,  and  shet  the  door.  I'll  tell 
ye  if  any  of  they-uns  comes,"  he  said. 

"  You  shut  your  mouth,"  said  Dalbert,  curtly,  but  not 
unkindly. 


34  VISITING   THE    SIN 

The  boy  obeyed,  and  they  watched  together. 

Naomi  Mozingo  had  not  gone  half-way  to  the  church 
when  she  met  Frank  Sharp.  The  young  man's  face 
was  white. 

"  Go  back !  "  he  said  peremptorily.  "  Thar's  no  more 
preachiri'  this  evenin'." 

"  Preaching !  "  she  said  scornfully.  "  Who's  going  to 
preach  to  murderers  ?  " 

"I  thought  you  didn't  know,"  he  said. 

"I  do.  How  dare  you  mix  yourself  —  and  me  —  in 
such  a  fray  ? " 

Her  eyes  were  darting  dangerous  gleams  at  him. 
They  wounded  as  effectually  as  the  bullet  that  was  yet 
in  his  arm.  His  face  flushed. 

"I  went  to  he'p  my  friends  —  and  yours,"  he  said. 

"  My  friends  !  "  she  retorted.  "And  they  show  their 
friendship  by  fighting  like  wild  beasts  about  me.  Truly 
they  are  friends  worth  having.  Shooting  is  the  work  of 
cowards,  Frank  Sharp,  and  I  acknowledge  no  coward  as 
friend." 

She  would  have  passed  him,  but  he  stretched  out  the 
uninjured  hand  and  clutched  her  sleeve. 

"  What  are  you  goin'  to  du  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Stop  the  rest  of  the  fools,"  she  said. 

"  You  needn't.     They're  all  gone  —  or  dead." 

He  loosened  his  hold,  swaying  as  if  he  would  have 
fallen.  She  turned  then. 

"  Go  on  to  the  house,"  she  said,  in  an  altered  tone. 
"  Dal  will  do  what  he  can  for  you  till  the  doctor  comes." 

"  I  won't." 

He  staggered  to  the  roadside,  and  dropped  exhausted 
on  the  grass.  Scarcely  a  trace  of  colour  was  left  in  his 
face,  but  there  was  a  savage  gleam  in  his  eyes. 

The  girl  came  and  laid  her  hand  on  his  shoulder. 

"  Let  me  see  the  wound,"  she  said.  "  That  bleeding 
must  be  stopped." 


VISITING   THE    SIN  35 

And  in  spite  of  his  protestations  she  did  what  she 
could  to  stop  it,  and  then  went  back  with  him  to  the 
house. 

She  sent  Lem  Sutton  for  the  doctor.  It  was  long 
before  he  came. 

"Another  bullet  to  look  after?"  he  asked.  "Well, 
you-all  that  have  got  off  with  nothin'  worse  'n  wounds 
may  think  yourselves  in  luck.  You've  come  aout  of  hit 
better  than  Beth  Morgan,  and  Mat  Hutsel,  and  Jim 
Somers." 

It  was  the  first  intimation  that  any  besides  Mat  and 
Beth  had  paid  the  full  penalty.  Dalbert  Mozingo's  face 
grew  more  drawn  as  he  listened  to  the  doctor's  words. 

"  I  didn't  know  it  was  Jim  too,"  he  said  hoarsely. 

"Why,  man,  don't  take  hit  so-o,"  said  the  doctor, 
heartily.  "Hit  hain't  your  doin'.  If  they  want  to 
shoot,  they'll  always  find  something  to  shoot  about." 

But  Dal  was  not  comforted. 


36  VISITING   THE    SIN 


CHAPTER   IV 

THE  accustomed  quiet  of  the  mountains  was 
broken.  The  very  stream  ranted  of  strife.  With 
loud  insistency  Cedar  Fork  bawled  and  threat- 
ened, its  every  tone  a  menace.  Storm  after  storm,  short 
and  furious,  had  swept  over  Cedar  Fork  valley,  setting 
the  air  ablaze  with  lightning,  and  pouring  into  the  creek 
a  wild  rush  of  water  that  taught  Cedar  Fork  its  power. 
There  was  strife  in  the  air,  and  strife  in  the  water,  and 
strife  in  the  bearing  of  the  men  and  women  whose  feet 
trod  valley  and  mountain  sides.  Discontent  had  been 
growing  for  weeks.  The  crop  was  ripe  now. 

Mrs.  Sutton,  sitting  glowering  over  the  embers  on 
her  hearth,  was  not  the  only  one  who  laid  at  the  door  of 
Dalbert  Mozingo  the  unfortunate  fact  that  the  grave- 
yard had  grown  richer  since  the  tree-buds  burst  their 
sheaths.  It  was  hardly  fair  that  the  mill  owner  should 
be  held  responsible  for  the  breaking  loose  of  passions 
always  too  near  the  surface  for  safety  ;  but  inasmuch  as 
there  would  have  been  no  shooting  if  there  had  been  no 
ill-feeling,  and  there  would  presumably  have  been  no  ill- 
feeling  if  there  had  been  no  mill,  the  inhabitants  of 
Cedar  Fork  valley,  taking  the  shortest  road  to  a  conclu- 
sion, laid  to  the  charge  of  the  mill  owner  the  disasters 
that  had  attended  the  shooting  on  the  previous  Sunday. 
Worse  still  in  its  effects  on  the  situation,  Dalbert 
Mozingo  was  inclined  to  follow  the  line  of  reasoning 
adopted  by  the  mountain  folk,  and  to  arrive  at  a  conclu- 
sion not  far  removed  from  theirs.  Not  so,  the  mill 
owner's  sister.  She  noted  the  stern  sadness  of  her 
brother's  face  with  growing  disapprobation. 


VISITING   THE    SIN  37 

"  You're  thinking  yourself  a  murderer  now,  I  suppose, 
because  a  set  of  crazy  mountain  men  see  fit  to  call  you 
so,"  she  said,  with  lively  scorn  in  her  tone. 

"  If  I'd  never  come  here,  Beth  Morgan  and  the  rest 
would  be  alive  to-day,"  he  said,  his  voice  hoarse  with  the 
pain  of  putting  the  horror  into  words. 

"Perha-aps,"  she  said,  with  a  long,  sarcastic  drawl. 
"  They  mi-ight  be  alive,  and  they  mi-ight  not.  It  takes 
a  little  less  than  nothing  to  set  the-em  fighting." 

Then,  as  she  looked  into  his  face,  her  tone  changed. 

"  Dal,  you're  a  real  fool,"  she  said ;  but  she  said  it 
softly.  "  If  all  the  men  in  Cedar  Fork  valley  —  and  aout 
of  it  —  choose  to  break  one  another's  heads,  or  shoot  one 
another  dead,  for  love  or  hate  of  me,  is  it  ary  fault  of 
mine?  Where  there's  gunpowder  there  '11  be  a  burst 
up  sooner  or  later.  What  does  it  matter  who  is  the 
match  ? " 

"  What  does  it  matter  ? "  he  repeated,  pain  and  regret 
struggling  together  in  his  voice.  "Nothing,  perhaps, 
in  the  result,  but  everything  to  the  match.  If  I  could 
give  back  life  to  Beth  Morgan  or  Jim  Somers,  I  would 
change  places  with  either  one  of  them  to-day." 

"  Hm !  The  world  would  be  a  sight  richer  for  the 
exchange,  wouldn't  it  ? "  she  said. 

The  mill-wheel  was  turning  to-day  as  briskly  as  ever, 
—  more  briskly,  perchance,  since  the  stream  was  full. 
The  mill  owner's  sister  had  promptly  silenced  all  talk  of 
stopping  the  work. 

"  Since  my  coming  here  has  done  so  much  harm,  I 
had  better  pull  down  the  mill  and  be  gone,"  Dalbert  had 
said  on  the  Sunday  evening  when  the  valley  grew  still 
as  a  battlefield  after  a  conflict. 

"  How  are  you  aimin'  to  pay  the  men  ? "  asked  his 
sister  quietly. 

Dalbert  was  silent.  In  truth,  he  could  not  pay  them 
unless  he  pushed  the  work  further.  The  mill  was  pay- 


38  VISITING   THE    SIN 

ing  expenses  and  giving  a  fair  profit.  In  time  he  would 
clear  himself  of  the  difficulty  into  which  his  partner's 
sudden  flight  had  dragged  him.  But  not  yet. 

So  the  mill  went  sawing  on,  and  upon  the  mountain 
the  sound  of  the  axe  was  heard  as  usual  on  the  Monday 
following  the  shooting  fray.  A  few  places  were  con- 
spicuously vacant.  They  did  not  all  belong  to  dead 
men.  There  were  those  who  had  been  active  in  the 
shooting  who  deemed  that  Cedar  Fork  was  not  a  desir- 
able place  of  residence  in  the  immediate  future.  Not 
that  any  greatly  feared  the  law.  Cedar  Fork  was  in  the 
heart  of  the  mountains,  and  Cedar  Fork  was  a  law  unto 
itself.  The  next  time  the  sheriff  had  occasion  to  pass 
through  the  gap  that  gave  easiest  access  to  the  region 
he  took  pains  to  explain  that  he  had  no  evidence  against 
any  man  in  the  neighbourhood,  and  that  his  intentions 
were  strictly  friendly. 

He  was  speaking  the  literal  truth.  It  behooved  a 
sheriff  of  those  days  to  be  friendly  in  the  Cedar  Fork 
valley.  Why  should  he  be  any  other  ?  There  were  a 
hundred  sheltering  rocks  from  behind  which  a  bullet 
could  pop  to  the  certain  undoing  of  an  officer  foolish 
enough  to  be  unfriendly  with  an  impregnable  mountain 
district. 

No,  it  was  not  the  law  they  feared.  But  after  that 
day  there  were  men  who  went  about  with  pistols  slung 
around  their  waists,  and  one  or  two  of  the  shooters, 
having  a  premonition  of  danger,  took  their  guns  and 
went  out  hunting, —  away  from  the  seat  of  strife. 

And  outwardly  the  valley  grew  quiet,  though  the 
stream  menaced,  and  dark  faces  scowled,  and  Mrs.  Sut- 
ton  talked  loudly  of  the  disasters  that  had  come  to  the 
neighbourhood  in  the  wake  of  the  mill,  and  dubbed  Dal- 
bert  Mozingo  the  murderer  of  "  her  man  and  her  young- 
un." 

For  little  Rhody  lay  by  her  father's  side  in  the  dismal 


VISITING   THE    SIN  39 

burying-ground  on  a  hill-top  denuded  of  trees.  The 
sloping  shelter  of  rough  boards  placed  a  few  feet  above 
those  two  desolate  graves  was  not  in  sight  from  Mrs. 
Sutton's  window,  nevertheless,  it  afforded  her  satisfac- 
tion to  sit  there,  and  point  a  vindictive  finger  in  that  direc- 
tion, while  she  cursed  the  "  foreigner  who  had  come  to  a 
valley  where  nary  one  wanted  him,  and  nary  one  was  the 
better  for  his  comin'." 

Lem  turned  up  every  day  at  the  mill.  Since  he  had 
brought  the  news  of  the  shooting  he  had  felt  nearer  to 
his  hero.  The  boy  kept  his  eyes  and  ears  open.  That 
was  how  it  happened  that  he  knew  a  little  more  about 
the  sayings  and  doings  of  the  men  than  they  suspected. 
On  one  occasion  he  repeated  what  he  heard  to  Dalbert, 
but  the  look  of  sadness  on  the  young  man's  face  was  not 
the  expression  he  had  desired  to  call  up.  All  the  rest 
of  that  day  the  mill  owner  moved  about  under  an  added 
gloom,  doing  the  work  of  two  men  in  a  frantic  effort  to 
make  up  by  personal  exertion  for  that  which  was  lack- 
ing, and  feeling  all  the  time  a  sense  of  guilt  that  was 
more  wearing  than  the  labour.  Lem  decided  that  he 
had  made  a  mistake.  After  that  he  carried  his  news  to 
Naomi.  She  only  laughed. 

"  Let  them  talk,"  she  said.  "  What  finds  its  way  aout 
of  their  mouths  leaves  so  much  the  less  in  their  hearts. 
The  more  they  say,  the  better.  It  lets  off  some  of  their 
spite." 

But  she  took  note  of  all  Lem  told  her,  and  was 
watchful. 

It  was  more  than  a  week  after  Dalbert  had  under- 
taken personally  to  fill  the  vacant  places  at  the  mill  that 
a  stranger  rode  into  the  valley.  The  sky  had  grown 
tranquil  again,  and  Cedar  Fork  only  occasionally  growled 
out  a  note  of  warning.  The  stranger  seemed  struck  with 
the  beauty  of  the  scene. 

"Where's  the  mill?"  he  asked  of  a  man  who  was 
coming  towards  him. 


40  VISITING   THE   SIN 

"  Yander, —  more's  the  pity  !  " 

"Pity,  eh?"  said  the  stranger,  in  an  undertone. 
"Then  you're  no  worker  at  the  saws." 

He  was  wrong.  It  was  because  he  was  a  worker  that 
the  mountaineer  was  aggrieved.  He  had  come  down 
from  his  home,  miles  away  in  the  mountains,  to  help  in 
the  mill.  He  was  one  of  those  for  whom  Naomi  pro- 
vided in  the  boarding-house,  and  whom  Lem  watched 
closely.  He  pointed  surlily  down  the  stream  as  he  spoke. 

"Get  along  'yander,'  then,"  said  the  stranger,  shaking 
the  bridle  on  his  horse's  neck. 

The  saws  had  stopped  their  relentless  tearing  through 
the  hearts  of  trees,  and  were  resting  for  the  night. 
Working  hours  were  over. 

Once  again  the  stranger  stopped  his  horse  to  look 
around  him. 

"A  fine  prospect  for  a  mill  owner,"  he  said  admiringly. 

In  the  natural  order  of  things  Dalbert  Mozingo  should 
have  been  pleased  to  welcome  his  visitor.  He  brought 
money.  And  money  was  sorely  needed  at  the  mill. 
The  mill  owner  was  not  glad  to  see  him,  however  — 
there.  His  coming  brought  with  it  perplexity,  and 
possible  danger. 

His  stay  in  the  valley  was  short.  He  left  early  in  the 
morning,  riding  away  beneath  the  splendid  forest  trees, 
the  girth  of  which  more  than  once  called  forth  an  ex- 
pression of  admiration. 

"You've  got  some  first-class  timber  here,"  he  said, 
coming  to  a  stand  before  a  chestnut  that  measured  ten 
feet  through.  "  They're  well  pleased  with  it  up  yonder." 

He  had  had  good  opportunity  to  judge.  For  the  past 
month  the  greater  part  of  all  that  the  mill  turned  out 
had  gone  into  his  hands. 

The  mill  owner  rode  far  enough  with  his  visitor  to 
put  him  in  the  way  of  crossing  the  mountain  by  a  short 
cut.  He  was  nearing  home  again  when  a  mountaineer 


VISITING   THE    SIN  41 

brought  his  horse  alongside,  the  two  rinding  barely 
enough  room  to  ride  down  the  mountain  path. 

"  Was  that  man  James  Low  ?  " 

The  mill  owner  looked  at  the  questioner  steadily  for  a 
moment  before  he  answered,  "Yes." 

"  Him  the  stuff  from  our  country's  been  goin'  aout  to 
since  Tuesday  was  a  month  ? " 

"Yes." 

The  answer  was  short  and  not  conciliatory.  Dalbert 
Mozingo  understood  the  purport  of  the  questions. 

"  Did  he  come  this  way  to  pay  for  hit  ? " 

The  mill  owner  reined  in  his  horse,  and  turned  full  on 
the  questioner. 

"  What  he  came  here  for  is  my  business,  not  yours," 
,he  said.  "  Look  here,  John  Sharp.  Every  cent  I  owe 
you  I'm  going  to  pay.  But  I  can't  pay  to-day,  and  I 
ain't  going  to  be  questioned  about  my  business,  or  about 
the  business  of  ary  man  that  comes  to  my  house." 

"  Your  business,  is  hit  ?  "  said  the  man,  a  savage  into- 
nation in  his  voice.  "  And  hit  hain't  mine  ?  You  hain't 
cut  none  o'  the  trees  that  went  to  that  thar  Jim  Low 
off  'n  my  land,  have  ye  ?  And  ye  don't  owe  me  a  smart 
sight  on  to  a  hundred  dollars  ?  Hit  hain't  my  business, 
hain't  hit  ? " 

He  turned  his  horse  up  a  steep  slope,  and  disappeared. 

"  There's  going  to  be  trouble  with  them,"  muttered 
Dalbert.  "  I  wish  James  Low  had  made  an  appointment 
beforehand.  I  would  rather  have  met  him  anywhere 
than  here." 

For,  of  the  five  hundred  dollars  that  had  come  into 
the  mill  owner's  hands  that  day,  not  a  cent  could  be 
spared  for  the  mountain  men.  Dalbert  felt  that  his 
honour  was  at  stake.  Twelve  months  before  he  had 
allowed  a  friend  to  mortgage  his  farm  to  help  him  put 
machinery  in  the  mill.  That  five  hundred  dollars  was 
needed  to  save  the  farm. 


42  VISITING   THE    SIN 

"Well?" 

Naomi's  smile  was  half  encouraging,  half  questioning. 
She  had  waylaid  her  brother  before  he  could  reach  the 
house.  Her  hand  gently  caressed  his  horse's  nose, 
while  she  looked  into  the  rider's  eyes. 

"John  Sharp  was  at  me." 

"Ah  !  Thought  he'd  be  in  ti-ime.  Well,  the  rest  are 
ready  to  follow  suit." 

"  How  do  you  know  ? " 

She  laughed. 

"  Haven't  I  the  best  little  spy  in  Kentucky  to  keep 
me  informed  ? "  she  asked  lightly.  "  Trust  Lem  Sutton 
for  letting  anything  go  beside  hi-im." 

"  What  are  they  going  to  do  ? " 

"Force  you  to  pay  the  money." 

She  was  watching  the  effect  of  her  words.  It  was 
very  apparent.  The  mill  owner  drew  himself  up 
proudly. 

"  They've  made  a  little  mistake,"  he  said.  "  I'm  sorry, 
but  nary  cent  of  it  can  come  to  them." 

Her  face  grew  grave  for  a  moment.  Then  she 
laughed. 

"  Don't  tell  them  that,"  she  said. 

"  Why  not  ? " 

"  For  the  good  of  —  we-el,  the  money." 

"  Do  you  think  they'll  get  it  away  from  me  ? " 

"No,"  she  said,  and  the  laughter  broke  again  about 
the  corners  of  her  eyes,  though  her  lips  were  grave. 

That  night  Frank  Sharp  entered  unannounced.  Naomi 
had  seen  little  of  him  since  she  helped  tie  up  the  wounded 
arm.  He  had  apparently  not  quite  forgiven  her  for  her 
attitude  on  that  occasion.  His  present  visit  was  to  her 
brother. 

"Thar's  tol'rable  talkin'  goin'  on,"  he  said,  providing 
himself  with  a  chair  and  placing  it  conveniently  near  that 
of  the  mill  owner. 


VISITING   THE    SIN  43 

"  Is  that  anything  new  ? "  asked  Dalbert. 

"No— hit  hain't." 

The  young  man  sat  down  deliberately. 

"  They're  say  in*  hit  was  James  Low  what  come  here 
last  night." 

"They  might  be  further  from  the  truth,"  replied  Dal- 
bert. 

"  And  they're  sayin'  he's  done  paid  ye  for  the  logs 
we-uns  have  been  snakin*  down  the  mountain." 

"  Suppose  he  has  ?  "  said  Dalbert  slowly,  looking  the 
young  man  full  in  the  face. 

"Hit  hain't  much  account  to  me,"  was  the  quick 
answer.  "  I  reckon  I  can  du  without  my  money.  But 
thar's  them  that  won't." 

"  Your  father  among  the  number  ? " 

"Yes." 

The  tone  was  a  little  defiant. 

"I  met  John  Sharp  this  morning,"  said  the  mill 
owner.  "I  told  him,  as  I  tell  you,  that  if  you  have 
patience,  not  a  man  of  you  shall  lose  a  cent." 

"/  hain't  afraid  of  losin',"  said  Frank  quietly.  "/ 
hain't  aimin'  at  gittin'  money  aout'n  ye.  What  I  come 
to  tell  ye  was  that  you'd  better  look  aout.  The  losin' 
hain't  a  goin'  to  be  all  on  one  side." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

Dalbert  had  risen  from  his  chair. 

"  See  here,  Dal !  Are  you  goin'  to  keep  that  money 
in  the  house  ? " 

"No." 

"  I  reckoned  so,"  said  the  young  man.  "  Hit  hain't 
Dal  Mozingo  that  would  keep  ary  cent  for  himself 
when  he  owed  hit  to  others.  But  if  you  hain't  goin'  to 
keep  hit,  you're  goin'  to  pay  hit  to  somebody.  How 
much  of  hit's  comin'  to  we-uns  ?  " 

"  That's  my  business." 

"  Hit  hain't  mine,"  was  the  answer.  "  I  hain't 
lookin'  for  none  of  hit.  But  some  is." 


44  VISITING   THE    SIN 

"They'll  not  get  it  —  aout  of  this." 

Frank  Sharp  rose,  and  faced  the  mill  owner. 

"  Look  here,  Dal ! "  he  said  earnestly.  "  Hit  won't 
du  for  you  to  tell  that  to  ary  man  but  me.  Hit  hain't 
safe."  ' 

"  You  asked,"  returned  Dalbert  shortly. 

"  And  you'd  give  the  same  answer  to  the  next  that 
asked  ? " 

"  I  generally  speak  the  truth,"  said  the  mill  owner. 

"Well,  don't  speak  hit  jist  now,"  replied  the  other. 
"  Thar's  mischief  among  the  men.  They  say  that 
money's  theirn,  and  if  you  rob  'em  of  hit,  thar  hain't  no 
harm  in  turnin'  round  and  takin'  hit." 

"They'd  better  try,"  replied  Dalbert,  the  angry  blood 
mounting  to  his  forehead,  though  his  voice  was  cold 
and  calm. 

"That's  what  they're  goin'  to  du." 

"  When  ? " 

The  short,  pertinent  question  rang  through  the  room 
in  a  girl's  voice.  Frank  Sharp  turned  hastily.  Naomi 
stood  within  the  door,  her  dark  eyes  looking  deeper 
than  usual  as  she  fixed  them  on  the  visitor's  face. 

"That's  jist  what  I  come  to  tell  ye,"  said  the  young 
man  eagerly. 

The  sight  of  the  girl  had  scattered  his  resentment  to 
the  winds.  He  was  her  humble  servant  as  soon  as 
those  eyes  met  his.  She  smiled  upon  him. 

"  I  thought  there  was  something  afoot,  and  I  thought 
I  should  soon  hear  of  it,"  she  said. 

"They're  goin'  to  wait  till  Saturday  if  you-uns  don't 
take  no  steps  to  send  that  money  away.  But  if  you-uns 
goes  outer  this  valley,  they-uns  '11  stop  ye,"  explained 
the  young  man. 

"They  wi-ill?" 

The  drawl  upon  the  last  word  gave  it  a  tinge  of 
satire.  The  young  man  looked  at  her  disapprovingly. 


VISITING   THE    SIN  45 

"Hit  hain't  no  joke,"  he  said.  "They're  dead  in 
earnest.  Some  on  'em  was  for  comin'  and  makin'  Dal 
pay  up  to-night ;  but  thar's  lots  on  'em  hain't  willin'  to 
go  so  fur.  They'd  stand  by  ye  if  the  rest  warn't  so 
plumb  set." 

"How  many  are  the  rest?"  she  asked,  her  voice 
grave  again. 

"More  'n  half  the  men,"  he  said.  "Hit's  luekin' 
serious,  Naomi." 

"What  '11  they  do  if  Dal  chooses  to  ride  away  to- 
morrow ? "  she  asked. 

"  Go  atter  him,  and  stop  him." 

"Where?" 

"  I  don't  know.     I  guess  "  — 

.  He  got  no  further.  The  girl's  hand  was  laid  on  his 
arm.  His  eyes  sought  and  then  followed  hers  until 
they  came  to  the  mill  owner's  face.  It  was  hard  and 
cold,  but  the  eyes  shone  with  a  light  that  was  not  pleas- 
ant to  see. 

"The  men  are  crazy,"  said  Naomi.  "They'll  not  get 
the  better  of  Dal,  and  they'll  never  be  the  worse  for 
him  if  they  don't  spoil  everything  by  their  foolish  inter- 
fering. It's  stifling  in  here,"  she  added.  "  It's  a  right 
smart  hotter  to-day  than  it's  been  any  day  this  spring. 
Come  outside,  Frank." 

Frank  Sharp  was  not  the  only  man  who  sought  the 
mill  owner's  house  that  evening.  But  Frank  Sharp  was 
the  only  man  who  saw  the  mill  owner. 

More  than  one  of  the  most  determined  among  the 
workers  essayed  to  have  a  talk  with  Dalbert,  and  failed. 
The  object  of  each  was  the  same, —  to  secure  all,  or  part 
of  the  money  coming  to  him.  It  was  quite  late  that 
night  before  Naomi  Mozingo  decided  that  it  was  cool 
enough  to  retire  indoors.  She  had  long  ago  sent  Frank 
Sharp  away ;  but  she  had  had  quite  an  earnest  little  talk 
with  him  first,  and  when  they  parted,  her  hand  rested 


46  VISITING   THE    SIN 

somewhat  longer  than  usual  in  the  uninjured  member 
that  Frank  extended  to  clasp  it. 

Just  how  each  and  all  of  these  would-be  callers  were 
prevented  from  entering  the  house,  possibly  only  Naomi 
knew.  Some  went  away  swearing,  and  some  laughing ; 
but  they  all  went  away,  and  they  all  threatened  that 
"they'd  have  hit  aout  with  Dal  in  the  mornin',  whatever 
Naomi  might  say." 

"We-ell,  the  sooner  that  money  reaches  its  destina- 
tion, the  better." 

Naomi  had  rather  carefully  fastened  the  doors  and 
drawn  down  the  curtains  before  she  spoke.  It  was  an 
hour  when  the  mountain  side  was  usually  asleep,  but 
she  was  disposed  to  run  no  risks. 

"  I'm  going  with  it  to-morrow,"  said  Dal. 

"Whereto?" 

"  Jellico.     I  can  send  it  by  mail  from  there." 

"  And  what  if  they  stop  you  ? " 

His  eyes  significantly  sought  a  pistol  with  which  his 
fingers  were  toying.  He  had  been  cleaning  and  load- 
ing it. 

The  girl's  gaze  rested  on  it  too. 

"  If  you  have  to  use  that,  Dal,  promise  me  it  shall  not 
be  until  the  last  moment,"  she  said. 

He  looked  at  her  in  some  surprise.  Fear  was  not  a 
prominent  characteristic  of  Naomi  Mozingo. 

"  I  would  not  use  it  at  all,"  he  said,  "  if  the  interest  of 
another  were  not  at  stake.  That  five  hundred  dollars 
must  be  got  to  Rogers.  The  men  can  be  paid  later. 
It's  now  or  never  with  him." 

"Yes  —  it  must  go  to  him,"  she  said  thoughtfully. 
Then,  after  a  moment's  silence :  "  Well,  fight  like  a  fury 
if  you  like,  but  don't  bring  that  thing  aout  till  you 
can't  push  on  a  step  further.  I  reckon  it's  getting  pow- 
erful late,"  she  added.  "  We'd  better  be  going  to  bed. 
What  time  are  you  aimin'  to  start  in  the  morning  ? " 


VISITING   THE   SIN  47 

"  Early,"  he  said.  "  I'd  go  to-night,  but  I'll  not  let 
them  say  I  sneaked  off  in  the  dark  for  fear  of  any  man." 

"  It's  not  a  handful  of  mountain  men  that  will  ever 
have  the  chance  to  boast  that  they  got  Dalbert  Mozingo 
aout  of  his  bed  before  his  usual  hour,"  replied  the  girl, 
scornfully.  "  There  '11  be  a  sight  of  time  to  go  to  Jellico 
between  breakfast  and  sundown.  Let  the  men  get  to 
their  work  first.  Then  you  can  ride  off  quietly.  They'll 
not  need  to  be  told  that  you  are  going  aout  of  the 
valley." 

Dalbert  Mozingo  did  not  know  —  how  should  he  ?  — 
that  John  Sharp,  the  father  of  his  evening  visitor,  had 
taken  steps  to  assure  himself  that  none  went  out  of  the 
mill  owner's  house  between  evening  and  day  dawn  with- 
out his  knowledge.  What  Naomi  knew  she  did  not  tell. 

"  There,  go  to  bed !  It's  getting  powerful  late,"  she 
said,  breaking  in  on  the  young  man's  meditations  some 
thirty  minutes  later. 

A  directed  letter  lay  by  his  side.  Naomi  lifted  it,  and 
weighed  it  for  a  moment  in  her  hand. 

"  You'll  not  want  the  money  till  you  get  to  Jellico," 
she  said.  "  Better  not  put  it  in  here  —  or  in  your  purse 
either.  I'll  do  it  up  in  a  separate  packet  for  you.  Then, 
if  there  should  be  any  fighting,"  — 

"It's  safe  enough  where  it  is,"  he  answered  wearily. 

"  Perhaps.  But  I  shall  feel  easier  when  you're  gone  if 
I  know  I  tied  it  up  myself.  I'll  get  it  all  ready  for  the 
morning." 

He  looked  at  her  sharply. 

"  Do  you  think  I'm  not  capable  of  taking  care  of  it  to- 
night ? "  he  asked. 

"  Do  I  think  you  go  off  at  less  than  nothing,  like  a 
double  charge  of  gunpowder  ? "  she  retorted.  "  You  can 
keep  the  package  where  you  like.  But  it  will  be  safer 
to  make  a  package  than  to  carry  the  money  loose  in  your 
purse.  It  would  not  so  easily  be  found.  For  the  rest, 
you  can  please  yourself." 


48  VISITING   THE    SIN 

She  held  out  her  hand  for  the  money,  and  he  gave  it 
to  her. 

"  Now  go  to  bed,"  she  said. 

But  she  was  not  a  bit  surprised,  when  the  package  was 
made  up,  to  find  him  walking  backwards  and  forwards 
across  his  room.  She  came  inside,  and  laid  a  small  par- 
cel on  the  table  that  served  as  washstand. 

"There's  your  package,"  she  said.  "And  you  need 
not  put  a  pistol  beside  it.  I'm  not  looking  for  a  raid  on 
the  house  to-night." 

He  did  not  smile.  He  was  thinking  of  the  morrow, 
and  of  the  possibility  that  the  honourable  keeping  of  an 
engagement  that  had  never  looked  more  binding  than  it 
did  to-night,  would  lead  to  difficulties  more  serious  than 
any  he  had  yet  encountered.  It  was  not  fear  that  kept 
Dalbert  Mozingo  wakeful  that  night ;  or,  rather,  it  was 
the  fear  of  shedding  blood.  The  danger  to  himself  was 
a  secondary  consideration. 

He  did  not  think  he  slept ;  and  yet  his  ear  must  have 
been  less  alert  than  usual  that  it  did  not  hear  a  light 
footstep  pass  his  door,  nor  the  click  of  the  outside  latch. 
Perhaps  the  step  was  unusually  noiseless,  and  the  touch 
upon  the  door-handle  cautious.  Perhaps  he  had  grown 
drowsy,  for  it  was  at  that  earliest  hour  of  dawn  —  before 
the  birds  have  fairly  awakened  —  when  the  weariness  of 
a  long  night's  waking  has  not  yet  been  overcome  by  the 
stimulating  light  of  day. 

It  was  earlier  than  usual  when  Dalbert  Mozingo  came 
out  into  the  sunlight,  his  face  showing  signs  of  his 
night's  unrest.  Naomi  was  in  the  kitchen.  She  called 
to  him  as  he  passed. 

"  I  fed  Charley  and  Duke,  and  turned  them  aout  for 
a  run,"  she  said.  "  You  won't  want  Charley  till  after 
breakfast.  There  '11  be  less  suspicion  if  both  horses  are 
running  loose." 

She  had  come  to  the  door,  and  the  last  words  were 
spoken  in  a  low  tone. 


VISITING   THE    SIN  49 

"  I  don't  care  what  they  suspect,"  said  her  brother, 
impatiently.  "It  will  not  remain  suspicion  long." 

"Don't  you?"  she  answered.  "There  is  such  a 
thing  as  prudence." 

She  turned  away,  and  went  into  the  dining-room. 

The  men  were  moving  betimes.  They  had  failed  to 
see  the  mill  owner  over  night.  There  were  some  who 
promised  themselves  better  success  this  morning.  Not 
all  those  who  strolled  towards  the  dining-hall  while  the 
sun  was  a  comparatively  new  arrival  were  reckoned 
among  Naomi's  regular  boarders.  It  was  not  breakfast 
that  possessed  the  chief  drawing  power  this  morning. 

Naomi  was  to  all  appearance  hospitably  inclined. 
She  came  to  the  door,  and  greeted  the  intruders. 

"  Come  in,  all  of  you  that  are  hungry,"  she  called. 
"  We  can  find  room  for  a  tolerable  few  over  and  above 
them  that  eat  here  reg'lar." 

"  Whar's  Dal  ? "  asked  more  than  one  gruff  voice. 

"Dal?  In  the  house,  I  guess.  He'll  be  along  for 
breakfast." 

Possibly  none  but  Naomi  knew  just  the  difficulties 
she  had  surmounted  in  persuading  her  brother  to  put 
off  the  encounter  until  after  the  early  meal. 

"  What's  the  use  of  delay  ? "  he  asked  irritably.  "  It 
has  got  to  come  to  a  fight  between  us ;  and  the  sooner, 
the  better." 

"  It  shall  not  come  before  breakfast  if  I  can  prevent 
it,"  replied  his  sister ;  and  it  did  not. 

"  Come  right  in,"  she  called  peremptorily,  standing  in 
the  doorway,  a  presence  that  not  even  a  troop  of  angry 
mountaineers  could  overlook,  and  that  few  of  them 
could  disregard.  "Don't  tell  me  you've  eat  already. 
Nary  one  of  you  will  be  the  worse  for  an  extra  snack, 
seeing  you  all  turned  aout  so  early." 

They  looked  at  her  sullenly  and  sheepishly,  and  then 
the  majority  of  them  sauntered  into  the  dining-hall. 


50  VISITING   THE    SIN 

When  Dalbert  came  in  at  the  rear  door  there  was  a 
sudden  halt  in  the  business  of  finding  seats.  Voices 
grew  loud,  and  more  than  one  man  advanced  towards 
the  mill  owner. 

Dalbert  Mozingo  looked  ready  to  meet  the  attack. 
His  face  was  paler  than  usual,  but  it  would  have  taken 
not  a  little  self-complacency  for  any  there  to  imagine 
that  he  had  inspired  the  mill  owner  with  fear.  He 
began  to  speak,  raising  his  voice  to  make  it  heard  above 
the  others ;  but  Naomi  rapped  sharply  on  the  table. 

"I  reckon  I'm  mistress  he-ere,"  she  said,  slowly  and 
distinctly,  "and  I'll  not  have  eating  and  talking  going 
on  together.  Eat  your  victuals,  and  stop  your  questions. 
When  you're  through  with  eating,  there  '11  be  time 
enough  to  quarrel,  and  you  may  do  as  much  of  it  as 
you've  a  mind  to.  Sit  right  down,  every  man  of  you, 
for  there's  nary  one  in  these  mountains  shall  keep  my 
breakfast  waiting." 

They  obeyed  her,  and  she  rewarded  them  with  a 
breakfast  a  little  more  liberal  than  that  which  was  every 
morning  set  upon  her  table.  The  hands  of  the  clock 
pointed  to  seven  before  the  meal  was  over.  Naomi 
glanced  significantly  towards  them. 

"  Go  and  ring  the  bell,  Mance,"  she  ordered.  "  Eat- 
ing is  good  enough  in  its  place,  but  it  don't  pay  after 
seven  by  the  clock." 

"  Hit  hain't  no  use  ringin'  the  bell.  We-all  have  got 
to  have  a  word  with  Dal,"  said  one  of  the  visitors  em- 
phatically, his  tall,  powerful  figure  rising  with  threatening 
haste  from  the  table. 

"  Say  away.  I'm  ready  to  hear,"  replied  the  mill 
owner. 

"  Let  them  squabble  as  long  as  they  like,"  whispered 
Naomi,  as  she  passed  her  brother.  "  They  '11  not  try 
violence  here.  There's  too  many  on  your  side.  The 
danger's  when  you  get  well  aout  of  the  valley.  I  know 


VISITING    THE    SIN  51 

that  for  a  certainty.  Put  it  off  as  long  as  possible.  I 
have  a  reason  for  wishing  it." 

She  passed  him,  and  went  out,  leaving  Texas  to  clear 
the  table.  They  were  all  too  much  engrossed  in  the 
dispute  that  immediately  began  to  notice  that  she  went 
round  to  the  back  of  the  dwelling,  and  was  presently 
climbing  a  narrow  path  leading  into  the  recesses  of  the 
mountain.  While  yet  the  argument  waxed  hot  within 
the  dining-hall,  and  Dalbert  sought  by  patience  and  firm- 
ness to  convince  the  men  that,  while  he  was  unable  to 
meet  their  demands,  his  intentions  towards  them  were 
honest,  the  girl,  hot  and  breathless,  sprang  into  a  shel- 
tered hollow  of  the  hills,  where  two  horses  were  quietly 
feeding. 

"  Here  you  are,  my  beauties ! "  she  said  softly. 
"  Gently,  Duke,  gently  ! " 

This  to  the  foremost  animal,  that  came  trotting 
towards  her,  his  neck  outstretched  and  his  ears  working 
excitedly. 

It  was  little  wonder  the  girl  knew  just  where  to  seek 
the  horses.  She  herself  had  led  them  hither  not  many 
hours  before.  She  went  confidently  to  an  overhanging 
rock,  and,  stooping  down,  drew  out  saddle  and  bridle. 
Then,  putting  her  hand  on  the  neck  of  the  nearer  horse, 
she  spoke  to  him  softly. 

"  Come,  Duke,  we  have  work  before  us,"  she  said. 
"No,  Charley,"  as  the  other  came  jealously  up,  "you 
must  stay  here.  Your  master  will  want  you  later." 

It  took  but  a  few  moments  to  saddle  the  horse,  then 
for  an  instant  the  girl's  eyes  looked  into  his. 

"  Now  put  your  best  foot  foremost,"  she  said.  "  You're 
as  good  as  a  goat  for  scrambling  and  climbing.  To-day 
you  must  aout-do  yourself.  Swift  and  sure,  my  beauty. 
A  false  step  may  do  more  than  break  your  own  pretty 
neck." 

She  guided  him  out  from  between  the  rocks,  sprang 


52  VISITING   THE    SIN 

on  his  back,  and  a  minute  later  was  climbing  where 
neither  roadway  nor  bridle-path  told  of  the  possibility  of 
ascending. 

Great  rocks  broke  in  sheer,  wall-like  precipices  down 
towards  the  valley.  Skirting  around  them,  the  girl  and 
the  horse  gradually  wound  their  way  up.  The  animal 
deserved  the  praise  she  had  given  him.  He  clung  to 
the  rocky  ledges  as  sure-footed  as  a  mountain  goat. 
Now  and  then  the  voice  of  his  mistress  urged  him  on. 

It  was  a  rough  road  and  a  short  one.  Not  more  than 
twenty  minutes  from  the  time  the  girl's  foot  pressed  the 
stirrup  the  daring  little  horse  scrambled  up  a  break-neck 
slope,  and  placed  his  hoofs  on  the  sod  above. 

"  Well  done,  Duke !     We're  on  top  now." 

The  girl  lifted  her  head,  and  drew  a  deep  breath  of 
relief.  A  long,  almost  level  stretch  of  mountain  summit 
was  before  her. 

"Now,  my  pretty,  do  your  best,"  she  said.  "It  ain't 
going  to  take  yo-ou  long  to  cover  four  miles  of  this." 

She  bent  over  the  horse,  speaking  the  words  almost 
into  his  ear,  her  hand  at  the  same  moment  giving  the 
glossy  neck  a  gentle  slap.  The  animal  started,  tossed 
his  head,  and  was  away,  his  feet  flying  over  the  turf. 

"  Gently,  Duke !     Look  aout  for  rocks,"  said  Naomi. 

Once,  as  they  drew  out  into  an  open  space  where  the 
valley  she  had  left  was  in  full  view  below  her,  the  girl 
turned  and  looked  down.  A  peculiar  smile  was  on  her 
lips. 

"  I  wonder  how  soon  they'll  be  fighting  down  there 
for  —  nothing,"  she  said,  in  her  low,  musical  drawl. 

Then  she  laughed,  and  her  face  clouded. 

"  They  might  fight  it  aout  as  long  as  they'd  a  mind 
to,  but  there's  Dal,"  she  said,  and  stopped. 

The  next  moment  Duke  felt  an  impatient  tap  on  his 
neck. 

"  Faster  ! "  said  his  mistress  imperiously  ;  and  a  spurt 
from  the  willing  horse  answered  touch  and  voice. 


VISITING   THE    SIN  53 

Naomi  drew  rein  where  a  bridle-path,  steep  and  rocky, 
showed  a  way  down  into  the  valley  on  the  other  side  of 
the  mountain. 

"  Now  gently !  Slow  and  sure,"  she  said,  and  gave 
all  her  attention  to  the  descent,  that  presently  brought 
her  into  a  tiny  hamlet  lying  tucked  in  between  the 
hills. 

"  Howdy,"  said  Naomi,  in  a  matter-of-fact  tone,  as  she 
entered  the  building  that  served  as  post-office  and  vil- 
lage store. 

She  noted  the  mail  carrier  waiting  for  his  bag. 

"I  thought  I  should  be  just  in  time,"  she  said,  draw- 
ing a  bulky  letter  from  her  pocket.  "  I  calculated  the 
mail  would  be  about  sta-arting." 

"It's  powerful  lucky  you  warn't  too  late,"  said  the 
postmistress,  handling  the  letter  curiously,  and  then 
affixing  the  official  stamp.  "  I  was  jist  gittin'  'em  ready 
to  go.  Want  ary  thing  to-day  ?  " 

"  No,  get  your  mail  off  first.  I  don't  recollect  any- 
thing I  want,"  said  Naomi.  "I'll  just  wait  and  think." 

And  she  did  wait,  while  the  bag  was  slowly  locked 
and  handed  to  the  carrier.  Then,  when  she  had  seen 
him  mount  his  horse  and  ride  splashing  along  the  bed 
of  the  brook  that  answered  for  a  main  road  through  the 
hamlet,  she  suddenly  decided  that  she  was  in  need  of  no 
article  from  the  store  to-day. 

"  I'll  be  getting  back,"  she  said.  "  There's  a  sight  to 
be  done  with  so  many  men  about." 

"  Had  some  trouble  up  your  way,  hain't  ye  ? "  asked 
the  postmistress,  curiously. 

Naomi  looked  at  her  for  a  moment,  and  then  laughed. 

" Depends  on  what  you  call  trouble,"  she  said.  "If 
men  want  to  shoot,  it's  powerful  unreasonable  to  say 
they  sha'n't.  If  they're  satisfied  I  don't  see  who  has  a 
right  to  grumble. " 

Then  she  mounted  and  was  gone,  the  loose  stones 
flying  from  beneath  Duke's  feet, 


54  VISITING   THE    SIN 

"Now  for  the  other  half  of  the  performance,"  she 
whispered,  while  a  light  shone  in  her  eyes,  and  died  out 
again  for  the  fear  that  took  its  place.  Naomi  was 
thinking  of  her  brother. 

Dalbert  himself  was  at  the  moment  riding  along  a 
mountain  road  easy  and  safe  compared  with  that  by 
which  Naomi  had  come.  The  packet  his  sister  had 
tied  so  carefully  the  night  before  was  hidden  away  in 
an  inner  pocket.  He  was  later  than  he  had  expected  to 
be,  yet  he  was  riding  slowly. 

If  the  men  whose  angry  demands  for  money  had 
delayed  him  long  had  hoped  to  play  upon  the  fears  of 
the  mill  owner,  they  had  found  themselves  mistaken. 
Dalbert' s  lips  were  pressed  together,  and  there  was  as 
much  anger  as  determination  in  his  bearing.  The  hand 
that  held  the  reins  held  them  firmly,  and  checked  rather 
than  hastened  the  speed  of  the  animal. 

Dalbert  was  fully  alive  to  the  danger  of  being  way- 
laid, but,  whatever  feelings  were  uppermost  at  the 
moment,  personal  fear  was  not  among  them.  His 
energies  were  concentrated  upon  the  carrying  out  of  his 
purpose.  That  five  hundred  dollars  must  reach  Jellico 
before  night, —  should  reach  Jellico,  if  he  fought  every 
inch  of  the  ground  between.  The  mountain  town  was 
a  central  point  for  the  country  round.  From  it  his  let- 
ter would  safely  reach  its  destination.  But  the  young 
man  did  not  delude  himself  into  the  belief  that  the  ride 
to  Jellico  would  be  of  an  uneventful  nature.  The 
threats,  half-veiled,  with  which  the  men  had  met  his 
refusal  to  devote  a  large  part  of  the  money  he  had 
received  to  the  payment  of  their  wages,  had  been  very 
clearly  understood.  When  the  arguments,  which  had 
been  of  the  nature  of  demands,  had  ended  in  the  sud- 
den withdrawal  of  the  men  to  their  work,  he  had  realized 
that  the  cessation  of  hostilities  was  to  be  attributed  to 
the  presence  of  wiser  heads  among  them,  of  men  who 


VISITING   THE    SIN  55 

saw  the  inadvisability  of  pushing  things  to  extremities, 
and  who  had  a  following  quite  as  large  as  that  of  the 
malcontents.  The  dispute  was  ended  for  the  moment ; 
but  the  strongest  argument  —  the  resort  to  force  — 
was  yet  to  come.  Frank  Sharp  had  intimated  to  Naomi 
that  the  policy  of  the  more  extreme  section  was  to 
attempt  violence  only  at  such  time  as  they  could  be 
sure  of  coming  upon  the  mill  owner  when  unsupported 
by  his  friends,  and  Frank  Sharp  knew.  His  father  was 
among  the  dissatisfied. 

"  They  will  hardly  venture  to  make  it  a  case  of  high- 
way robbery,"  thought  Dalbert ;  "and  if  they  do  try 
it"  — 

A  hard  smile  played  for  a  moment  about  his  lips.  It 
went  as  quickly  as  it  came.  Where  was  the  room  even 
for  the  satisfaction  of  anger  in  a  question  that  presented 
two  wrong  sides  and  not  a  right  ?  If  he  had  to  fight,  it 
would  be  in  the  interest  of  a  man  who  had  a  perfect 
right  to  the  money.  Ay,  but  it  would  be  against  men 
who  had  an  equal  right.  Why  should  they  not  insist  on 
payment,  and  that  at  once?  Why  should  they  let 
money  that  they  had  earned  go  out  of  their  reach,  while 
they  waited  for  that  which,  being  in  the  future,  might 
never  come?  Supposing  they  did  waylay  him,  who 
would  be  the  most  guilty  of  robbery, —  the  man  who  was 
carrying  off  the  proceeds  of  other  men's  labour  or  those 
who  in  ignorant  rage  took  that  which  ought  to  have 
been  their  own  ?  He  drew  himself  up  in  self -scorn. 

"It's  a  nice  distinction  by  which  means  I  shall 
prove  myself  the  greater  defrauder,"  he  mused;  "and 
yet  Will  Rogers  would  be  the  biggest  loser, —  and  he 
shall  have  the  money,  come  what  may." 

What  might  come  did  come,  and  that  before  long. 
The  mill  owner  was  nearing  a  point  at  which  the  road 
approached  the  stream,  widening  out  towards  a  grassy 
stretch,  laurel-edged,  where  the  rocky  bank  dipped 


56  VISITING   THE    SIN 

sharply  down  to  the  water.  At  this  spot  two  or  three 
mountain  paths  converged.  It  was  a  convenient  place 
for  rendezvous,  and  as  he  reached  the  trees  and  came 
in  sight  of  it,  Dalbert  was  not  surprised  to  see  a  group 
of  horsemen  there  before  him. 

"  They  have  lost  no  time,"  he  muttered,  his  lips  falling 
again  into  a  cold  smile. 

He  rode  forward. 

"How  now?"  he  asked  peremptorily.  "Why  have 
you  left  your  work  ? " 

His  words  were  addressed  to  men  in  his  own  employ. 
There  were  others  there  who,  like  Frank  Sharp's  father, 
were  not  workers  at  the  mill  or  the  chopping,  but  to 
whom  he  was  in  debt  for  timber  cut  on  their  land.  Not 
a  man  in  the  group  but  had  a  right  to  lay  his  hand  on 
the  mill  owner's  bridle,  and  demand  payment  of  his 
claim. 

"  You  know  what  we-uns  have  come  for." 

The  speaker  was  John  Sharp.  He  wheeled  his  horse 
across  the  road  in  front  of  the  mill  owner. 

"  Do  I  ? "  The  words  rang  out  loud  and  clear,  with  no 
trace  of  anxiety  in  the  voice.  "  I  know  what  your  action 
looks  like;  but  I'm  slow  to  believe  that  the  men  of 
Cedar  Fork  have  descended  to  highway  robbery." 

"  Robbery  do  you-uns  call  hit  ? "  demanded  a  work- 
man. "Thar  hain't  no  robbery  abaout  hit.  Hain't  a 
man  a  ri-ight  to  his  own  ?  That  money  you've  got  in 
your  pocket's  ourn.  We-all  have  worked  for  hit  fair  and 
honest.  If  thar's  any  thievin',  hits  them  that  robs  hon- 
est workin'  men  that's  the  thieves." 

"  I  have  told  you  before  that  you're  not  going  to  lose 
a  cent  if  you  have  patience,"  said  Dalbert  sharply. 
"What  more  can  I  say?  This  money  belongs  to 
another.  If  it  were  not  so,  you  should  not  have  to  ask 
twice.  As  it  stands,  I  could  not  give  the  money  to  you 
and  remain  an  honest  man." 


VISITING   THE    SIN  57 

"  I've  never  beared  that  a  man  could  remain  anything 
but  what  he  was,"  sneered  John  Sharp.  "  You  hain't 
a-goin'  to  remain  an  honest  man  till  you're  an  honest 
man  to  begin  with.  Thar  hain't  no  honesty  in  takin' 
what  belongs  to  we-uns  clar  outer  the  valley.  I  say  hit 
hain't  no  stealin*  to  stop  that  sort  of  honesty." 

"That's  so,  John,"  broke  in  another.  "Stealin's 
takin'  what  don't  belong  to  you.  Hain't  that  so? 
And  don't  the  money  Dai's  got  in  his  pocket  belong  to 
we-all  ?  Then  hit  hain't  no  stealin'  to  take  hit,  is  hit  ?" 

There  was  a  general  murmur  of  assent,  broken  in 
upon  by  the  voice  of  the  mill  owner. 

"  You  may  think  you  have  a  claim  on  this  money,"  he 
said,  "but  the  law  acknowledges  no  man's  right  to  lay 
violent  hands  on  what  is  in  the  possession  of  another, 
however  much  he  may  think  himself  aggrieved." 

"  The  law ! "  interrupted  a  strong,  derisive  voice. 
"  Thar's  law  in  Cedar  Fork,  but  hit  hain't  the  fool  law 
of  the  courts ;  and  as  for  possession,  we  can  soon  put 
hit  on  the  right  side." 

There  was  a  loud  laugh  at  the  sally. 

"Hit's  this  way,  Dal,"  said  a  great,  rough-visaged 
mountain  man,  pushing  his  horse  to  the  mill  owner's 
side.  "  We-all  have  tried  fair  words,  and  come  off  the 
losers  every  time.  We  hain't  aimin'  to  try  no  sort  of 
words  any  longer.  That  money's  ourn.  We-all  are 
goin'  to  take  hit.  Hain't  that  so  ? " 

He  turned  to  the  others  as  he  spoke. 

"That's  abaout  hit,"  came  the  answer  from  many 
voices. 

"  Not  so  fast,"  said  Dalbert,  coolly  pointing  his  pistol 
at  the  speaker.  "  Stir  a  ringer,  and  you  are  a  dead 
man." 

But  while  he  spoke,  he  saw  the  glitter  of  half  a  dozen 
pistols,  and  more  than  one  gun  was  made  to  cover  him 
effectually 


58  VISITING   THE   SIN 

"  Don't  be  a  fool,  Dal !  You  don't  stand  a  mite  of 
chance,"  said  a  mountaineer,  with  gruff  good-nature. 
"  We-all  don't  want  to  hurt  you,  but  you've  got  to  give 
up  that  money." 

The  mill  owner  turned  his  face  towards  the  speaker. 
It  was  white  and  hard. 

"When  Dalbert  Mozingo  gives  you  that  money  to 
save  himself,  call  him  a  coward!"  he  said,  in  a  voice 
that  rang  across  the  mountain  road  and  out  upon  the 
stretch  of  hillside  above. 

The  sound  of  his  words  had  not  died  away  before  it 
was  followed  by  a  sharp  report.  The  bullet  flew  wide. 
Pefhaps  it  was  intended  that  it  should. 

Dalbert  looked  towards  the  spot  from  which  it  came. 
His  own  weapon  was  raised,  and  his  finger  on  the 
trigger.  The  moment  for  which  he  had  prepared  him- 
self had  come, —  the  moment  when  it  was  necessary  to 
shoot,  and  to  shoot  to  kill. 

Not  quite.  Before  that  answering  pressure  which 
would  turn  the  argument  into  a  deadly  conflict  was 
made,  there  came  a  second  report  from  far  above  the 
heads  of  any  of  the  group.  It  had  the  effect  of  divert- 
ing the  attention  of  the  combatants,  and,  once  alive  to 
outside  influences,  every  man  heard  the  sound  of  hoofs 
coming  on  at  a  mad  gallop.  A  minute  later  every  man 
had  the  chance  to  hear  a  girl's  voice,  a  well-managed, 
far-reaching  voice,  that  spoke  to  be  heard. 

"  Are  you  fools  —  to  fight  for  nothing  ? " 

She  came  in  sight  almost  as  the  words  reached  their 
ears,  her  horse  tearing  down  a  narrow  path  to  the  high- 
way. 

"  You  here,  Naomi  ?  This  is  n'  place  for  you,"  cried 
Dalbert. 

She  rode  straight  through  the  group  to  his  side,  none 
attempting  to  stop  her. 

"  Why  should  I  not  be  here  ? "  she  asked,  in  a  tone 
that  could  be  heard  by  all. 


VISITING   THE    SIN  59 

It  was  not  Dalbert  who  answered. 

"  You'd  better  go  back,  Naomi.  We've  got  a  little 
account  to  settle  with  Dal,  and  we're  goin'  to  settle 
hit." 

Naomi  turned  on  the  speaker. 

"  Settle  away,"  she  said  sharply.  "  I'll  stay  to  see 
fair  play." 

"  Naomi,  this  is  folly.  You  must  go.  I  will  not  have 
you  here.  What  good  can  you  do  ?  Don't  you  see  that 
you  are  hampering  me  ? " 

Dalbert  spoke  in  a  low,  irritated  voice.  She  smiled, 
her  face  close  to  his. 

"I  know  what  I'm  about  —  better  than  you  do,"  she 
said. 
,    Then  she  turned  to  the  men. 

"  Come,  say  on,"  she  invited.  "  I'm  not  here  to  spoil 
sport." 

"  No,  and  you  hain't  goin'  to  spoil  hit." 

It  was  John  Sharp  who  spoke.  He  took  care  not  to 
meet  her  eye. 

"  Come  on,"  he  added,  turning  to  the  others.  "  We- 
all  cain't  wait  here  all  day.  We're  goin'  to  take  what's 
ourn,  and  that's  all  thar  is  abaout  hit. " 

They  began  to  close  in.  Naomi  watched  them  quietly, 
keeping  close  to  her  brother's  side. 

"  I  shall  be  sorry  to  be  the  first  to  shoot,"  said  Dal- 
bert. "  But  unless  you  make  a  way  for  my  sister  and 
myself  to  pass,  I  shall  be  bound  to  consider  it  a  case  of 
assault  with  intent  to  rob.  I  warn  you  I  shall  consider 
myself  justified  in  using  this." 

The  pistol  was  again  in  evidence.  So  were  those  of 
the  other  men. 

Suddenly  Dalbert  felt  the  pistol  snatched  from  his 
grasp,  and  was  hardly  in  time  to  see  it  hurled  far  up  on 
the  hillside.  The  next  moment  Naomi's  followed  it. 

"  Naomi,  how  dare  you  ?  " 


60  VISITING   THE    SIN 

He  turned  upon  her  savagely.     She  only  smiled. 

"  Now  will  you  shoot  an  unarmed  man  ? "  she  cried, 
flashing  a  pair  of  scornful  eyes  on  the  Cedar  Fork  men. 

"  We  don't  want  to  shoot.  Hit's  his  own  look  aout. 
We-all  want  that  money,  and  we're  a-goin'  to  have  hit ; 
but  we  don't  want  to  hurt  him." 

The  speaker's  voice  was  sullen. 

"Give  me  my  pistol.  I'm  ready  to  fight  it  aout  with 
you,"  cried  Dalbert,  in  a  white  heat  of  passion.  "  I  ask 
favour  of  no  man." 

"  Stop  a  minute,"  said  Naomi  calmly.  "  Nary  one  of 
you  knows  what  he's  talking  about.  Now  then,  let's 
understand  one  another.  You  ask  for  —  what  ?  " 

"  The  money  Dai's  got  in  his  pocket." 

"You  shall  have  it." 

"Naomi!" 

She  had  never  seen  such  a  look  on  her  brother's  face 
before,  but  she  met  it  with  a  cool  smile. 

"You  shall  have  it,"  she  repeated. 

"Ay,  but  we-uns  hain't  foolin',"  said  one  of  the  men. 
"  We  mean  all  the  money  he's  got  abaout  him  in  ary 
place." 

"And  I'm  not  fooling  either,"  she  said,  looking  them 
squarely  in  the  face.  "  You  shall  have  every  cent  that 
Dal  and  I  have  on  our  persons.  Will  that  satisfy  you  ?  " 

"  I  guess  hit  will,"  said  one*  of  them. 

"  Naomi,  are  you  mad  ? "  asked  Dalbert,  in  a  low 
tone. 

"  No,  but  you  are  —  with  passion,"  she  said.  "  Do  as 
I  tell  you.  I'm  no  fool." 

"  You  are  a  coward,"  he  said  scornfully. 

"Ami?" 

Her  eyes  flashed,  but  they  laughed  too. 

"Dal  wants  to  fight  it  aout,"  she  said,  glancing 
towards  the  men.  "  He  doesn't  know,  any  more  than 
you,  that  there's  nothing  to  fight  about.  We're  about 


VISITING   THE    SIN  61 

as  poor  as  Job  —  Dal  and  I  —  to-day.  All  we've  got 
wouldn't  count  up  to  ten  dollars  ;  but  what  there  is  you 
may  have,  if  it  will  help  you  any.  Come  and  take  it, 
one  of  you.  It  don't  need  a  dozen  to  carry  it." 

"  Move  aside,  Naomi,  and  let  me  recover  that  pistol," 
said  Dalbert  softly.  "  This  is  worse  than  folly." 

"You  shall  have  it  —  later,"  she  said,  keeping  her 
horse  between  him  and  the  hill.  "  Don't  crowd  so  close 
on  Duke.  He's  getting  excited." 

So  were  the  men.     They  came  pressing  nearer. 

"  Look  here !  We-uns  want  that  money  what  Jim  Low 
paid  Dal  yesterday.  He's  got  hit,  and  we're  goin'  to 
have  hit." 

"You'll  be  powerful  smart  if  you  get  tha-at,"  she 
said,  with  a  long  drawl  on  the  last  word.  "  That  money 
has  left  Cedar  Fork  valley,  my  friends.  It  has  been 
paid  to  the  man  who  had  the  first  claim  on  it." 

Nobody  stared  at  her  harder  than  Dalbert.  There 
was  a  dead  silence.  It  was  broken  by  John  Sharp. 

"  You  cain't  fool  we-uns  so.  *  Dal  never  went  outer 
this  valley  last  night,  for  I  watched  the  house  myself." 

"Is  that  so  ? "  asked  Naomi.  "  It  was  a  pity  you  had 
your  labour  for  nothing.  No,  Dal  did  not  go  aout  of 
the  valley  last  night." 

"  Then  how  did  the  money  go  ?  I  should  like  to 
know  that.  John  Sharp  ain't  no  fool." 

"  No-o  ? "  she  said  slowly.  "  And  you  would  like  to 
know  how  it  went.  Well  —  I  took  it." 

"You?" 

"  Yes.     It  was  not  heavy." 

"  Naomi,  what  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"When?" 

The  two  questions  were  simultaneous.  She  ignored 
Dalbert's,  and  answered  that  of  the  men. 

"  When  ?  While  you  were  quarrelling  with  Dal.  Do 
you  know  how  much  time  you've  wasted  over  this 


62  VISITING   THE   SIN 

wrangling  ?  You  began  at  seven.  Look  at  the  sun. 
How  far  is  it  from  noon  ?  " 

She  pointed  upwards  as  she  spoke. 

All  eyes  followed  her  glance.  A  curse  or  two,  not 
loud,  but  deep,  made  answer. 

"  Thar's  only  your  word  for  hit." 

John  Sharp  had  returned  to  the  attack. 

"  Yes,  there  is.  You  can  search  Dai's  pockets.  He'll 
let  you,  since  you  have  dared  to  call  his  sister  a  liar." 

"  Did  you  fool  him  as  well  as  us-all,  or  are  you-uns 
both  foolin'  we-uns  ? " 

The  man  who  spoke  looked  suspiciously  from  brother 
to  sister. 

"  I  guess  —  I  fooled  the  lot  of  you." 

She  laughed. 

"  Dalbert  has  a  precious  package  hidden  away  some- 
where," she  continued.  "  He  was  prepared  to  sell  his 
life  for  it.  He  will  perhaps  be  willing  to  let  you  see  it 
now.  It  should  have  contained  the  money  James  Low 
paid  yesterday.  I  have  told  you  that  money  is  in  the 
United  States'  mail-bag.  Dal,  give  them  your  purse 
and  that  parcel." 

The  face  that  he  turned  towards  her  was  still  white 
with  anger. 

"  I  know  as  little  as  the  rest  what  you  mean,"  he  said. 
"  I  have  vowed  to  carry  that  package  safely  to  Jellico. 
I  wish  you  would  go  home." 

"  Give  up  the  package,"  she  said  in  a  low  tone.  "  Do 
you  take  me  for  a  liar  ? " 

"  I  don't  know  what  to  take  you  for,"  he  replied. 

For  answer  she  suddenly  thrust  her  hand  into  the 
inner  pocket  where  she  knew  it  was  most  likely  he  had 
placed  the  package. 

"  There ! "  she  said,  tossing  the  packet  towards  the 
group  of  hesitating  men.  "  That  is  the  parcel  for  which 
he  would  have  risked  his  life.  Open  it,  one  of  you." 


VISITING   THE    SIN  63 

A  man  stooped  from  his  saddle,  and  grasped  the 
little  packet.  It  was  carefully  tied ;  and  as  his  clumsy 
fingers  fumbled  at  and  then  broke  the  string,  all  eyes 
were  upon  him.  A  few  slips  of  paper,  of  the  size  and 
shape  of  bills,  rewarded  his  efforts.  He  tossed  them 
loose  in  the  wind. 

"Do  you  want  my  purse  and  Dalbert's?"  asked 
Naomi  coolly. 

A  savage  oath  was  the  answer. 

"Come,  Dal.  There's  no  object  in  going  to  Jellico 
to-day,"  said  Naomi.  "I've  mailed  your  money  safely. 
You  can  send  your  letter  another  time.  I  wrote  a  few 
words  of  explanation. 

He  looked  at  her,  and  then  at  the  men. 

"I  suppose  it's  no  use  explaining  that  I  knew  as 
little  of  this  as  you  did,"  he  said.  "  My  sister  was  try- 
ing to  save  me  from  danger.  A  man  is  hardly  grateful 
for  that  kind  of  care." 

"  Oh,  I  guess  you've  been  abaout  as  well  fooled  as  the 
rest  of  us  by  that  witch  gal,"  replied  one  of  the  party 
scornfully. 

"  Take  care  !  "  said  Dalbert  menacingly. 

"Oh,  let  them  say  what  they  like,"  interposed  Naomi. 
"  Hard  names  won't  kill.  Besides,  you  are  too  angry 
with  me  to  act  as  my  defender."  This  in  an  under- 
tone. 

"  How  can  I  be  other  than  angry  ? "  he  said. 

"  You  couldn't.  I  don't  expect  it.  But  you  may  as 
well  come  now.  I'm  —  getting  tired." 

He  looked  down  at  her.  A  tender  light  was  warring 
with  the  anger  in  his  eyes. 

"  I  rode  over  the  mountain  where  even  Duke  took  me 
at  the  risk  of  his  life,"  she  said.  "  Duke  deserves  to 
get  back  and  rest." 

"  The  risk  of  Duke's  life  ?  How  about  yours  ? "  he 
asked. 


64  VISITING   THE    SIN 

"That  doesn't  count,"  she  said,  and  laughed. 

The  laugh  was  a  little  tremulous. 

"  Well,  my  men,  will  you  go  back  to  work  ?  I  did 
not  mean  to  trick  you;  but  in  any  case  the  money 
could  not  have  been  yours.  I  can,  however,  safely 
promise  that  the  next  shall  be  divided  among  you." 

Dalbert  spoke  calmly,  quietly  facing  the  stormy  group. 

"  You  have  lost  the  chance  to  be  highway  robbers," 
he  continued.  "  On  the  whole,  I  think  I  am  glad.  I 
might  have  lost  my  life,  but  I  should  certainly  have 
taken  that  of  some  one  else." 

Then  he  turned  his  horse's  head  to  ride  back  to  the 
mill. 

"Stop  a  minute,"  said  Naomi.  "It  is  a  pity  to  lose 
two  good  pistols." 

She  rode  coolly  up  the  hillside,  dismounted,  and  picked 
up  the  weapons.  Then  she  rejoined  Dalbert.  No  one 
attempted  to  stop  them  as  the  brother  and  sister  rode 
back  to  the  mill. 


VISITING   THE    SIN  65 


CHAPTER  V 

THE  mill-wheels  were  idle.  There  was  no  work 
for  them  to  do.  Mrs.  Sutton  moved  her  chair  from 
the  hearth  to  the  window  to  gloat  over  the  long, 
silent  mill,  the  roof  of  which  was  a  strong  aid  to  her 
imagination  in  realizing  the  feelings  of  the  mill  owner  as 
he  stood  in  its  empty  spaces. 

"  Dal  Mozingo  may  set  and  gnaw  his  finger  nails  for 
want  of  some  better  payin'  business,"  she  growled.  "  Hit 
hain't  powerful  unlikely  he'll  soon  have  nothin'  else  to 
gnaw.  Him  and  his  sister  can  starve  for  all  Cedar 
Fork  '11  work  for  'em  ary  more.  I'd  be  proud  to  see  'em 
laid  as  low  as  my  man  and  my  young  un." 

Cedar  Fork  had  come  to  a  decision.  Since  the  pro- 
ceeds of  their  labour  had  been  sent  out  of  the  valley,  the 
men  would  work  no  more  for  Dalbert  Mozingo.  There 
were  some  who  doubted  the  wisdom  of  the  determina- 
tion. If  they  had  been  free  to  follow  their  own  judg- 
ment, they  would  have  kept  at  work  until  the  mill  owner 
could  clear  himself  of  his  difficulties.  They  were  not 
too  much  blinded  by  passion  to  see  that  their  loss  was 
coincident  with  his.  But  their  lot  was  cast  in  Cedar 
Fork  valley,  and  life  in  Cedar  Fork  valley  was  not  un- 
complicated. A  man  might  differ  from  his  neighbours 
there,  as  elsewhere,  but,  on  a  subject  on  which  Cedar 
Fork  felt  strongly,  for  a  man  to  differ  from  his  neigh- 
bours to  the  point  of  upsetting  their  plans  was  a  little 
risky. 

"We-uns  have  got  to  live  here,"  said  Frank  Sharp 
apologetically.  "They-all  have  decided  you-uns  hain't 
goin'  to  run  the  mill  till  they-all  have  been  paid.  /  know 


66  VISITING   THE    SIN 

they're  fools ;  but  hit  hain't  no  good  to  say  so,  and  any- 
how one  cain't  work  if  the  rest  stop." 

The  young  man  had  been  one  of  the  few  whose  mules 
had  been  kept  working  until  the  trees  already  felled 
were  sawed  and  taken  out  of  the  valley.  No  more  were 
cut  down.  Dalbert  understood  that  his  operations  in 
Cedar  Fork  valley  were  ended. 

"  They  might  have  given  me  a  chance  to  pay  them," 
he  said  bitterly. 

It  tried  him  sorely  that  they  were  putting  it  beyond 
his  power  to  keep  his  promise  to  them  —  forcing  him  to 
fail  in  his  compact  because  they  had  made  up  their 
minds  he  could  not  succeed. 

"There's  one  comfort,  they'll  take  the  consequences 
of  their  folly,"  Naomi  said  vindictively. 

It  was  no  comfort  to  Dalbert.  He  would  have  cared 
less  for  the  loss  to  himself  if  he  could  have  had  the  satis- 
faction of  knowing  that  he  was  the  only  loser. 

"  They  will  perhaps  acknowledge  their  stupidity  when 
they  handle  my  money,"  he  said. 

His  one  object  was  to  get  away  and  earn  enough  to 
pay  all  claims.  He  would  have  moved  mill  and  ma- 
chinery to  some  other  part,  and  started  afresh,  but  the 
moving  would  cost  more  than  it  was  possible  for  him  to 
command  at  present.  This — like  the  paying  of  the  debts 
—  lay  in  the  future,  only  it  was  a  more  remote  future 
than  the  other  in  his  calculations.  Naomi  was  of  another 
mind. 

"  Let  them  wait  till  you  have  set  yourself  on  your  feet 
again,"  she  said.  "  If  they  get  their  wages  some  day,  it 
is  more  than  they  deserve.  Go  away  and  earn  enough 
to  send  for  the  machinery.  Afterwards,  when  you  have 
worked  things  clear,  it  will  be  time  enough  to  think  of 
them." 

He  made  her  no  answer,  but  she  knew  him  too  well 
to  take  his  silence  for  assent. 


VISITING   THE    SIN  67 

"  He'd  send  them  the  last  cent  if  he  knew  he  should 
starve  the  next  day,"  she  said. 

There  were  changes  already  at  the  mill  owner's  house. 
Texas  had  been  sent  home,  and  the  house  was  very  still. 

"  I  can  do  all  that  is  wanted  for  me  and  Dal,"  Naomi 
said.  "  When  the  mill  is  not  running,  I  want  no  help." 

More  than  one  among  the  friendly  section  of  the  val- 
ley women  came  in  to  condole  with  the  mill  owner's  sis- 
ter, and  incidentally  to  see  what  they  could  see  and  hear 
what  they  could  hear.  Neither  eyes  nor  ears  were  fully 
enlightened.  None  had  reason  to  ,  complain  of  want 
of  friendliness  on  Naomi's  part.  She  showed  no  over- 
sensitiveness  on  the  subject  of  her  brother's  difficulties, 
discussing  the  question  freely  enough  with  her  visitors, 
but  whenever  one  such  added  to  her  store  of  knowl- 
edge it  was  because  Naomi  distinctly  desired  that  the 
addition  should  be  made. 

If  every  visitor  did  not  go  away  satisfactorily  enlight- 
ened, it  was  not  for  lack  of  direct  questions.  Those 
whose  attitude  had  left  them  on  visiting  terms  at  the 
house  felt  themselves  at  an  advantage.  The  other  part 
of  the  community  had  to  depend  on  them  for  informa- 
tion. They  did  not  neglect  their  opportunities,  but  the 
outcome  of  the  opportunities  was  not  all  that  they  could 
have  desired.  Such  as  it  was,  however,  they  made  the 
most  of  it. 

"Is  Dal  goin'  to  stay  here  foolin*  round  the  mill  ? " 
asked  one  of  the  opposite  party. 

"I  hain't  sure,"  replied  the  neighbour  addressed. 
"  My  woman  was  in  thar  yesterday,  and  Naomi  said  they 
warn't  aimin'  to  lose  time  more  'n  was  necessary.  If  the 
mill  didn't  run  no  more,  thar  warn't  no  good  waitin' 
round." 

"  The  mill  won't  run  no  more :  we-uns  '11  take  care  o' 
that,"  said  the  other,  grimly. 

"  Dal  hain't  cut  down  all  the  trees  on  John  Sharp's 


68  VISITING   THE    SIN 

lot  yit,"  responded  the  neighbour  reflectively.  "  My 
Will  seed  him  up  thar  yesterday.  Maybe  he's  goin'  at 
hit  agin." 

"He  won't  cut  no  more  trees  on  John  Sharp's  land, 
not  if  he  did  buy  'em,"  was  the  answer.  "  I  reckon 
thar  hain't  no  buyin'  whar  thar  hain't  no  payin'.  John 
Sharp  '11  fix  hi-im  if  he  tries  cuttin*  on  his  land." 

One  or  two  of  the  enemy,  determined  to  attain  to 
something  definite,  attacked  Dalbert  himself. 

"  What  am  I  aimin'  to  do  ? "  responded  the  mill 
owner,  turning  on  his  questioners.  "  Pay  my  debts. 
That's  what  I'm  aimin'  to  do.  It  won't  be  the  fault  of 
ary  one  of  you  if  you  ever  get  a  cent  of  your  money. 
But  you'll  have  it,  in  spite  of  your  folly.  What  I  can't 
earn  in  this  valley  I'll  earn  aout  of  it." 

"  Oh,  you're  goin'  away,  are  you  ? " 

The  question  was  eager. 

"  I'm  going  where  I  can  earn  enough  to  pay  my  debts, 
whether  that's  here  or  elsewhere,"  said  Dal,  savagely. 

Dalbert  made  more  than  one  journey  to  Jellico,  and 
came  back  with  the  cloud  upon  his  face  that  had  become 
habitual  there  of  late.  There  was  a  day,  however,  when 
he  sprang  from  his  horse  with  more  haste  than  he  had 
shewn  since  the  mill  stopped  running. 

"  Here,  Naomi !  "  he  called,  and  tossed  her  a  letter  as 
she  reached  the  door. 

The  girl  retreated  into  the  house  with  her  prize. 
She  even  took  the  precaution  to  go  into  an  inner  room 
before  unfolding  the  letter.  Half-friendly  friends  were 
very  apt  to  stroll  in  when  Dalbert  returned  from 
Jellico. 

Naomi's  eyes  brightened  as  she  read.  She  went 
straight  through,  and  returned  to  the  heading. 

"  Big  Creek,"  she  said  reflectively. 

Then  her  face  changed. 

"  Dal,"  she  cried,  forgetting  caution,  and  going  out  to 


VISITING   THE    SIN  69 

her  brother,  "it's  from  the  place  where  father's  last 
letter  was  written." 

"Yes — I  know,"  he  said. 

He  saw  that  her  eyes  were  shining. 

"  You  are  going  to  accept  the  position  ? "  she  ques- 
tioned. There  was  more  than  a  trace  of  eagerness  in 
her  voice. 

"  I  should  be  a  fool  to  refuse  it,"  he  replied.  "  It 
will  keep  us,  and  give  me  the  chance  to  put  something 
by  every  month. 

"  You  had  better  send  an  answer  directly,"  she  said. 

"  I  have  sent  it." 

She  laughed. 

"  You've  lost  no  time  about  it." 

"  No.  There  was  no  time  to  lose.  He  wants  a  fore- 
man who  can  be  at  work  next  week.  If  he  does  not 
have  me,  he  will  have  somebody  else." 

"  That's  sure,"  said  Naomi. 

Then,  after  a  minute's  silence.  "Dal,  we  may  learn 
something  of  him." 

"  Yes  —  we  will  try,"  he  said. 

There  had  not  been  so  much  animation  in  Dalbert's 
manner  since  the  shooting  at  the  "  church-house." 
An  opening  out  of  his  difficulties  was  appearing  in 
the  shape  of  an  opportunity  to  begin  work  again  as 
foreman  of  a  mill  in  a  mountain  valley  in  Tennessee. 
There  was  such  a  marked  difference  in  voice  and  car- 
riage that  John  Sharp,  meeting  the  mill  owner  as  he 
turned  his  horse  out  on  the  mountain  side,  stopped  and 
stared  at  him. 

"  Goin'  to  start  up  at  the  mill  agin  ?  "  he  asked  inso- 
lently, after  that  long  stare. 

Dalbert  turned  slowly  round,  and  faced  him. 

"  No,  John  Sharp  ;  but  I'm  going  to  work  through  my 
difficulties,  and  come  aout  on  the  right  side  yet,  in  spite 
of  you  and  all  Cedar  Fork  behind  you,"  he  said. 


70  VISITING   THE   SIN 

"You  won't  work  through  'em  ha-ar,"  retorted  the 
mountaineer,  sneeringly. 

"  Perhaps  not." 

"  You  hain't  goin'  to  git  no  more  hundreds  o'  dollars 
outer  this  valley,"  continued  Sharp.  "We-uns  '11  fix 
tha-at." 

"You  are  right,"  replied  Dalbert  quietly.  "You 
have  fixed  that.  But  I'm  going  to  get  the  hundreds  all 
the  same." 

"  How  ? "  inquired  the  farmer,  with  a  savage  sneer. 

"  By  going  away  to  earn  it." 

"When?" 

The  eagerness  behind  the  short,  sharp  question 
warned  the  mill  owner  to  be  cautious.  He  looked  at 
the  speaker  steadily  for  a  minute. 

"When  it  suits  my  purpose,"  he  said  slowly,  and 
turned  and  went  back  to  the  barn. 

Within  the  house  Naomi  was  working  swiftly  and 
hopefully.  To  all  appearance  everything  was  as  usual, 
but  the  more  precious  possessions  were  finding  hiding- 
places  in  box  and  trunk.  Naomi  could  not  trust  the 
temper  of  the  Cedar  Fork  people. 

Her  thoughts  were  not  all  of  Cedar  Fork.  They  had 
gone  on  to  that  gap  in  the  Tennessee  mountains  sug- 
gested by  the  name  of  Big  Creek.  The  name  was  not 
unfamiliar.  Back  in  the  earlier  stretches  of  memory 
it  held  a  conspicuous  place.  Naomi  had  never  seen  Big 
Creek  Gap,  but  connected  with  it  was  the  troubled  time 
which  made  a  gulf  between  the  old,  free  child-life  of  her 
first  memories  and  the  years  of  training  that  led  on  to 
to-day.  A  farm  on  the  edge  of  the  Kentucky  mountain 
district ;  a  girl  and  boy,  regular  mountaineers  in  minia- 
ture; a  home,  large,  clean,  cool,  and  fresh  with  the 
freshness  of  the  mountain  side,  with  law,  in  the  person 
of  Aunt  Sally,  and  indulgence,  in  the  person  of  the 
father  himself,  as  conflicting  rulers  therein;  absolute 


VISITING   THE    SIN  71 

freedom  from  care  and  infinite  enjoyment  of  life, — 
these  were  the  elements  of  those  earliest  days.  The 
glorious  hills  and  woods,  the  clear  skies,  and  the  wealth 
of  flowers,  the  growing  cattle,  and  especially  the  young 
mules,  freer  and  more  frolicsome  than  even  the  children 
themselves,  were  some  of  the  features  of  the  picture 
that  belonged  to  those  perfect  days.  And  then  came 
Big  Creek, —  a  dawning  consciousness  of  the  possibility 
of  ill,  a  first  apprehension  that  the  gladness  of  life  could 
be  snatched  from  the  hand  that  grasped  it. 

It  was  only  a  name  at  the  top  of  a  letter  written  in 
"father's  "  big,  round  hand,  when  it  first  became  a  reality 
to  Naomi  and  Dalbert, —  nothing  but  the  name  of  the 
place  at  which  their  father  had  arrived  on  his  journey 
to  Georgia  with  a  drove  of  mules.  But  when  no  after 
letters  came  and  that  name  became  the  one  tangible 
thing  in  a  mist  of  doubt  and  fear,  when  the  father  dis- 
appeared from  the  lives  of  the  boy  and  girl  as  com- 
pletely as  if  the  Gap  had  opened  its  rocky  walls  and 
swallowed  him  up,  Big  Creek  became  a  place  never  to 
be  forgotten. 

It  was  hard  for  the  children  to  believe  that  this  dead 
silence,  this  search  for  information  that  brought  only 
disappointment,  was  the  end  of  the  undertaking  which  in 
their  estimation  had  involved  great  and  splendid  possi- 
bilities. Their  father  had  hoped  for  much  gain  from 
his  journey  southward.  The  war  between  North  and 
South  had  begun,  and  mules  were  in  request.  The 
time  had  not  come  when  the  passes  of  those  mountains 
were  held  first  by  one  army  and  then  by  another.  The 
way  was  clear  when  Dalbert  Mozingo,  the  elder,  went  to 
Big  Creek  Gap  on  his  road  to  Georgia.  It  was  not 
many  weeks  before  the  tide  of  war  flowed  through  the 
mountains,  and  swept  away  all  trace  of  what  had  gone 
before.  The  traveller  was  lost  sight  of  completely. 
Many  droves  of  mules  had  passed  through  the  Gap  since 


72  VISITING   THE    SIN 

Dalbert  Mozingo  went  that  way.  Inquiries  at  a  com- 
paratively early  date  had  failed  to  trace  him,  and  when 
the  passes  of  the  Tennessee  Mountains  were  held  by 
the  Confederate  army  and  life  became  a  sharp  struggle 
for  existence  for  the  sympathisers  with  the  Northern 
cause,  even  Aunt  Sally  concluded  that  no  more  could 
be  done.  She  sold  the  farm  for  what  it  would  bring, 
and  took  the  boy  and  girl  to  a  safer  place. 

"  I'll  make  sure  of  a  good  education  for  both  on  ye," 
she  said.  "What  the  farm  don't  do,  I  will.  Then 
you'll  hev  to  shift  for  yourselves." 

So  to  the  children  who  had  known  nothing  but  the 
free  mountain  life  came  the  knowledge  that  is  born  of 
cities.  When  the  brother  and  sister  again  found  their 
way  to  another  part  of  the  Kentucky  fastnesses,  few 
would  have  recognised  the  crude  little  mountaineers  of 
earlier  days.  Many  of  the  memories  of  those  days  had 
faded,  but  the  father's  face  was  as  clear  as  ever. 

Naomi  had  always  been  "her  father's  girl"  ;  and  half 
the  excitement  that  lurked  beneath  her  movements 
to-day  owed  its  force  to  the  thought  that  in  Big  Creek 
Gap  she  might  succeed,  even  after  so  many  years,  in 
obtaining  information  about  him.  She  was  not  unmind- 
ful of  present  surroundings,  however. 

"Better  keep  your  own  counsel,  Dal,"  she  said. 
"We're  not  quite  sure  you  and  the  Big  Creek  mill 
owner  will  come  to  an  understanding,  and  if  we  were, 
—  the  less  said,  the  better." 

It  was  only  two  days  later  before  they  were  sure. 
Dalbert  had  returned  from  another  ride  to  Jellico,  and 
by  a  peculiar  coincidence  had  again  encountered  John 
Sharp. 

"He  hangs  round  as  if  he  thought  he  could  gain 
something  by  looking,"  he  said  angrily. 

"  How  much  more  did  he  do  than  look  ? "  inquired 
Naomi. 


VISITING   THE    SIN  73 

"  Had  the  impudence  to  ask  me  when  I  was  aimin'  to 
start  making  the  fortune  that  was  to  pay  him  and  the 
rest." 

"  And  you  told  him  —  what  ? " 

"That  I  might  be  aimin'  to  start  sooner  than  he  bar- 
gained for." 

Naomi  did  not  answer  for  a  minute.  A  peculiar 
smile  was  on  her  lips. 

"  Better  tell  him  to  keep  his  questions  for  them  that 
will  answer  them,"  she  said  sharply.  "The  less  clew 
you  give  hi-im,  the  better." 

"I  should  think  in  his  heart  he'd  be  glad  to  know 
there  was  some  chance  of  his  getting  the  money,"  said 
Dalbert. 

"Should  you?  You  and  John  Sharp  haven't  much 
in  common, —  not  enough  to  make  it  possible  for  one  to 
judge  of  the  other,"  replied  Naomi. 

Perhaps  Lem  Sutton  found  more  within  him  to  answer 
to  the  nature  of  the  man  round  whom  he  hung  quietly 
and  persistently.  Perhaps  he  had  opportunities  for 
character  study  not  enjoyed  by  Dalbert.  Whatever 
may  have  been  the  reason  for  his  suspicions,  however, 
Lem  must  have  had  them.  If  he  had  not  believed  that 
mischief  was  afoot,  he  would  not  have  wormed  his  way 
under  the  floor  of  a  certain  old  outbuilding  where  John 
Sharp's  mules  munched  mountain  hay  in  the  winter  and 
shivered  when  an  extra  heavy  gust  of  mountain  air, 
winter-chilled,  swept  through  the  gaps  of  their  log 
shelter.  The  boy  had  barely  wedged  himself  in  between 
the  earth  and  the  floor  above  when  rough  voices  were 
heard,  and  four  mountain  farmers  lounged  over  to  the 
log  structure  and  propped  their  shoulders  against  it  for 
support. 

"  I  tell  you  hit's  abaout  time  we  put  the  stopper  on. 
He's  aimin'  to  go,  and  to  go  right  smart.  He's  plumb 
crazy  to  be  off." 


74  VISITING   THE   SIN 

The  speaker  was  John  Sharp.  His  companions 
slowly  chewed  the  tobacco  their  mouths  contained,  and 
with  wonderful  unanimity  aimed  spurts  of  juice  at  the 
nearest  tree. 

"They're  a-goin',  that's  sure,"  replied  the  nearest 
lounger,  shifting  his  shoulder  to  a  more  comfortable  posi- 
tion. "Naomi's  gittin'  shet  of  her  dishes  and  fixin's. 
They're  a-goin'.  But  when  ?  That's  the  question." 

"  Goin',  air  they  ? "  asked  John  Sharp,  significantly. 
"They're  aimin'  to  go;  but  goin', —  that's  another 
thi-ing." 

"  Whose  fool  enough  to  pay  Naomi  for  her  dishes  ? " 
asked  a  third  member  of  the  party. 

"Naomi  hain't  lookin'  for  money,"  was  the  response. 
"That  hain't  what  she's  atter.  She's  lettin'  her  fixin's 
go  to  he'p  pay  off  what  Dal  owes.  They  du  say  the  cow 
hain't  Dai's  no  more,  though  he  milks  her  all  the  same. 
They're  keepin'  hit  powerful  quiet,  but  hit  hain't  hard 
to  guess  that  them  that  he'ped  Dal  saw  and  haul  the  last 
o'  them  logs  are  goin'  to  git  all  the  pickin's." 

"Dal  and  Naomi  hain't  seed  the  end  o'  this  valley 
yit,"  said  John  Sharp,  vindictively. 

"  How's  that  ? "  asked  a  neighbour,  leaning  lazily  for- 
ward to  get  a  view  of  Sharp's  face. 

"Thar's  law  in  old  Kentucky,"  said  John  impres- 
sively. "  We-uns  don't  trouble  hit  often,  but  nobody's 
goin'  to  hinder  we-uns  usin'  hit  when  hit  answers  we- 
uns'  ends." 

"  Law  cain't  make  a  man  pay  when  he  hain't  got  the 
money,"  retorted  the  nearest  lounger. 

"No,  hit  cain't,"  replied  John. 

"  Then  whar's  the  guede  o'  the  law  to  we-uns  ? " 

"  Whar's  the  guede  ?  "  replied  the  farmer  loudly.  "  If 
hit  cain't  he'p  us,  hit  can  hurt  him.  Hain't  that  some 
gue-ude  ? " 

"  I  reckon,"  was  the  short,  emphatic  answer. 


VISITING   THE    SIN  75 

«  How  '11  hit  du  that,  John  ?  " 

Another  mouth  was  cleared  of  tobacco  juice  to  give 
utterance  to  the  question. 

"  How  ?     Hain't  he  fixin'  to  leave  the  State  ?  " 

"  I  reckon." 

"  And  hain't  he  aimin'  to  go  without  payin'  his  lawful 
debts  ? " 

«  Sure." 

"  Then  I'm  goin'  to  stop  him.  The  law's  agin  him. 
He  cain't  leave  this  State  while  he's  in  debt,  not  without 
the  law  stoppin'  of  him,  and  askin'  him  a  few  questions. 
Hit  '11  hinder  him  so-ome." 

"  That's  so.     Sure  as  you  live,  he  cain't." 

"  No,  sir.  He's  got  to  pay  or  stay.  He's  aimin'  to 
go.  That's  agin  the  law.  I'll  soon  stop  his  little  game." 

"How?" 

The  tone  was  eager,  though  the  voice  was  choked  in 
tobacco  juice. 

"Send  the  sheriff  atter  him,  and  clap  him  in  jail. 
Thar  hain't  no  difficulty  abaout  kit? 

At  this  juncture  an  ear,  fitted  carefully  to  a  hole  in 
the  foundation  of  the  building,  was  tickled  by  the  advent 
of  a  spider  of  exploring  tendencies. 

"  Ugh !     Git  aout ! " 

The  smothered  exclamation  was  too  low  to  rise 
beyond  the  floor.  The  ear  was  for  a  moment  with- 
drawn, and  a  hand  laboriously  worked  its  way  up  to 
crush  the  venturesome  insect.  There  was  not  much 
superfluous  room  in  Lem's  hiding-place. 

"Whe-en?" 

The  word,  drawled  out  by  a  loud,  lazy  voice,  was  the 
first  Lem  distinguished  when  his  ear  was  at  liberty  to 
resume  its  ordinary  occupation. 

"Mighty  soon.  Thar  hain't  no  sense  losin'  time. 
Dal  and  that  gal's  fooled  we-uns  onct.  They  hain't 
goin'  to  du  hit  agin.  They  hain't  goin'  to  find  hit  so 


76  VISITING   THE    SIN 

plumb  easy  to  git  away.  That  Naomi  thinks  we-uns 
don't  know  nothin'.  Hit  hain't  so.  We  know  enough 
to  make  hit  powerful  uncomfortable  for  the-em." 

A  grim  chuckle  was  the  listeners'  response. 

"  Hit  hain't  plumb  certain  thar's  a  sight  o'  danger," 
remarked  one,  when  the  silence  had  lasted  so  long  that 
Lem's  eye  changed  places  with  his  ear  in  its  relation  to 
the  friendly  gap.  "Dal  Mozingo  hain't  the  man  to 
sneak  off  in  the  dark.  He's  got  a  right  smart  o'  pride, 
has  Dal." 

"  Sneak  off  ?  I  hain't  so  sure,"  growled  Sharp.  "He 
useter  wouldn't ;  but,  when  a  man's  in  a  tight  place, 
thar's  no  tellin'.  Dai's  got  to  git  away  from  ha-ar,  and 
thar's  that  gal  behind  him.  I  tell  ye,  hit  hain't  safe. 
Hit  '11  be  a  powerful  sight  safer  when  the  sheriff  hauls 
him  off." 

"  How  '11  you  prue-uve  he's  aimin'  to  go  away  ? "  asked 
one  of  the  party,  reflectively. 

"  How  '11  I  prue-uve  hit  ? "  John  Sharp  stared  sav- 
agely at  the  questioner.  "  Hain't  he  said  so  more  'n 
onct?" 

"  Maybe  he's  said  he'd  go  off  and  earn  money,  but 
he  hain't  never  said  he  was  goin'  now,"  responded  the 
other.  "  You'd  want  to  swar  he  was  goin'  right  away." 

"  He's  fixin',  hain't  he?"  demanded  John  Sharp. 

"Yes,  he's  fixin',  if  what  the  women  folks  says  is 
true ;  but  we-uns  don't  know  when  he's  aimin'  to  go, 
and  we  don't  know  for  certain  he's  goin'  outer  the  State. 
He  may  swar  he  hain't  goin'  at  all." 

"  Some  men  might.  Dal  won't,"  replied  John,  posi- 
tively. "Dai's  a  smart  sight  too  proud  to  lie.  Thar 
hain't  no  fear  o'  that. " 

At  this  point  Lem  gave  a  vicious  kick  at  a  rat  that 
was  investigating  the  quality  of  the  boy's  bare  toes, 
with  a  view  to  a  change  of  diet. 

"  Git  aout ! "  he  ejaculated  in  muffled  wrath.  "  If  I 
war  n't  a-listenin'  to  them,  I'd  larn  ye." 


VISITING   THE    SIN  77 

He  was  listening,  and  listening  so  intently  that  the 
rat  found  itself  at  an  advantage,  and,  acting  in  accord- 
ance with  its  character  as  an  animal  of  low  nature,  set 
its  teeth  well  into  the  grimy  skin  of  that  prominent 
great  toe. 

A  squeal,  for  which  the  rat  was  not  responsible,  and 
another,  for  which  the  rat  was  responsible,  was  the 
immediate  result. 

"  Thar's  some  powerful  lively  rats  under  this  buildin','' 
remarked  one  of  the  men.  "  They're  fightin'  like  the 
mischief." 

"  Let  'em,"  said  John  Sharp  shortly.  "  I  got  some- 
thin'  more  important  to  attend  to  than  the-em.  Rats 
hain't  the  only  varmints  that's  got  to  be  trapped." 

A  loud  laugh,  and  "  That's  so  !  "  greeted  the  words. 

"  When  are  you  goin'  to  set  abaout  doin'  the  trap- 
pin'  ?  "  was  the  next  question. 

John  Sharp  hesitated. 

"I  hain't  plumb  sure,"  he  said  at  last.  "To-morrer 
or  Friday,  I  reckon." 

"  How  '11  you  git  the  sheriff  ?  " 

"  Go  atter  him." 

"Well,  I  reckon  I'll  happen  that  away  abaout  the 
time  you  come  along  with  him,"  remarked  the  interro- 
gator, with  a  chuckle.  "  Hit  '11  be  a  si-ight  to  see  Naomi. 
She's  a  right  sma-art  hand  at  trappin'  other  people. 
Hit  '11  be  worth  walkin*  a  step  or  two  to  see  how  she 
likes  bein'  trapped  herself." 

"  You  can  happen  thar,  and  all  Cedar  Fork  can 
happen  thar  if  they  like,"  said  John,  impressively.  "  I 
hain't  aimin'  to  du  this  thing  in  a  corner." 

He  strutted  off  with  his  head  held  high  in  the  air. 
Lem  knew  his  head  was  higher  than  usual  by  the 
peculiar  thud  of  his  feet  on  the  ground.  His  auditors 
slowly  relieved  the  log  walls  of  the  weight  of  their 
heavy  bodies,  and  moved  off. 


78  VISITING   THE    SIN 

"  Oh,  my  lor  !  What  '11  Naomi  say  ?  "  remarked  one 
as  he  went.  "John  Sharp'll  du  hit." 

Before  the  voices  had  died  away,  a  pair  of  heels 
pushed  themselves  out  of  a  hole  that  nobody  but  a  small 
boy  could  have  crawled  into ;  and  the  body  and  head 
that  were  the  necessary  accessories  of  the  heels  followed 
quickly. 

Lem  was  in  a  hurry.  He  scampered  across  a  spur  of 
the  mountain,  and  almost  tumbled  into  the  path  by 
Cedar  Fork.  With  a  flourish  of  his  bare  feet  to  clear 
them  of  dirt,  he  presently  crossed  Naomi's  threshold, 
and  poked  his  head  into  the  kitchen. 

"  Naomi  ? " 

"  Well,  Lem,  what  is  it  ? " 

It  was  the  mill  owner's  voice ;  and  the  mill  owner  was, 
to  all  appearance,  the  only  occupant  of  the  place. 

"  Oh,  I  warn't  lookin'  for  you,"  said  Lem,  backing  a 
step  or  two.  " I  wanted  her" 

"Ain't  I  as  good?" 

There  was  a  laugh  in  Dalbert's  eyes.  Hope  was 
making  another  man  of  the  mill  owner. 

"  No-o.     Whar's  she  ?  " 

"  She's  here.  What  do  you  want  with  her  ?  Stop, 
though.  I've  got  lettuce  to  pick.  Come  aout  with  me, 
and  help  get  it." 

Naomi  had  sent  one  swift  glance  across  at  the  face  of 
her  visitor.  She  gave  him  no  chance  to  speak  till  the 
garden  patch  was  reached.  Then,  when  her  hands 
touched  the  lettuce-leaves,  she  turned  and  looked  up  at 
the  boy,  her  face  a  little  lower  than  his  own. 

"What  is  it  ? "  she  asked. 

"They're  goin'  to  put  him  in  jail ! " 

The  words  came  in  a  shrill,  horrified  whisper. 

The  girl  picked  a  lettuce-leaf  and  laid  it  in  her  pan. 
The  colour  had  flashed  into  her  face. 

"  Help  me  pick  lettuce,"  she  said  peremptorily. 


VISITING  THE   SIN  79 

Her  eyes  had  seen  a  figure  not  far  distant. 

The  boy  stooped  over  the  lettuce  bed. 

"  How  do  you  know  ? "  she  asked. 

"I  heared  John  Sharp  tell  hit  to  some  more  of 
they-uns." 

"When?" 

"  Jist  now.  I  crawled  under  the  old  mule  barn,  and 
listened. 

"How  are  they  aimin'  to  do  it?" 

"Git  the  sheriff.  Hit's  'cause  Dai's  goin'  outer  the 
State  without  payin'  they-uns.  He  says  he  cain't." 

"Who '11  stop  him?" 

"John  Sharp." 

"When?" 

"  To-morrer  or  the  day  atter." 

"Tell  me  all  you  heard,  and  pick  lettuce  while  you 
tell.  Never  mind  how  many  you  spoil." 

The  boy  obeyed.  The  lettuce-bed  suffered,  but  the 
knowledge  of  the  listener  was  increased  ;  and  a  passer-by 
who  saw  the  picking  went  on  none  the  wiser. 

"That  '11  be  enough  lettuce,"  said  Naomi  at  last, 
straightening  herself  and  looking  down  at  the  overflow- 
ing pan.  "  You  go  home  now,  Lem.  There  ain't  any- 
body much  more  use  than  a  boy  when  he's  real  smart." 

Lem  lingered.     Naomi  started  for  the  house. 

"  Hain't  you  aimin'  to  du  nothin'  ?  " 

The  words  came  in  a  burst  of  disappointment  and 
disapprobation. 

Naomi  turned  and  looked  at  the  boy. 

"I  ain't  aimin'  to  see  John  Sharp  get  the  best  of 
me-e,"  she  said,  with  a  smile  on  her  lips. 

Lem's  face  brightened. 

"John  was  powerful  sure,"  he  said. 

"John's  been  powerful  sure  more  than  once,"  she 
replied;  "and  he's  been  powerful  disappointed,  too. 
Maybe  he  ain't  seen  the  last  disappointment  yet." 


8o  VISITING   THE    SIN 

Lem  went  off  whistling. 

That  day  and  the  next  were  as  one  to  the  mill  owner 
and  his  sister,  for  the  gulf  of  sleep  that  should  have 
separated  them  became  a  highway  of  labour.  When  the 
sun  rose,  the  last  chest  was  fastened  and  the  last  treasure 
secured. 

"Well,  it  '11  be  over  the  quicker,"  said  Dalbert;  but 
he  looked  nervous. 

There  was  a  smile  on  Naomi's  face.  She  prepared 
breakfast,  and  when  it  was  eaten  paid  two  or  three  visits 
in  different  directions.  On  her  way  to  the  last  calling- 
place  she  encountered  John  Sharp.  Perhaps  the  en- 
counter was  not  quite  accidental.  Naomi  knew  some- 
thing of  John's  habits. 

"Howdy,"  she  said,  in  as  matter-of-fact  a  tone  as  if 
no  cause  for  unpleasantness  existed.  "  I'm  going  up  to 
Will  Graham's  to  see  if  he  can  spare  a  team.  Dal  wants 
one  powerful  bad  to-day." 

John  stared  at  her. 

"Wants  a  team,  does  he?"  he  asked,  when  he  had 
sufficiently  recovered  from  his  astonishment  to  be  able 
to  speak.  "  What  does  he  want  a  team  for  ?  " 

"Well,  I  don't  know  as  it's  any  good  to  tell  yo-ou," 
said  Naomi,  coolly.  "  You  ain't  seemed  so  friendly  as 
you  used  to  be,  so  I  never  thought  I  could  get  you  to 
help.  But  the  chests  and  things  we've  a  mind  to  take 
with  us  have  got  to  be  hauled,  and  they've  got  to  be 
hauled  to-day." 

"  You're  &-goiri ',  then  ? " 

The  words  tumbled  over  one  another  in  their  haste. 

"  Yes.  Didn't  you  know  ? "  asked  Naomi  innocently. 
"  I  thought  you'd  kept  a  right  good  watch  on  all  that 
Dal  and  I  were  doing.  Going  ?  Why,  yes.  I've  been 
round  to  say  good-by.  We've  got  some  friends  in 
Cedar  Fork  yet." 

She  passed  him,  and  walked  on.     He  stood  looking 


VISITING   THE    SIN  81 

after  her,  surprise  changing  to  cunning  delight  on  his 
face. 

"  I  never  thought  she  was  sich  a  plumb  fool,"  he 
muttered.  "  Well,  thar  hain't  much  time  to  lose." 

Naomi  had  gone  barely  a  hundred  yards  when  she 
heard  footsteps  behind  her. 

"  Air  you  aimin'  to  go  to-day  ? " 

John  was  not  yet  alongside,  but  he  was  in  too  much 
of  a  hurry  to  wait. 

"Yes,  to  be  sure,"  replied  Naomi,  without  turning 
her  head.  "  Why,  you  are  in  the  dark,  John  Sharp." 

She  walked  steadily  on.  She  could  hear  him  follow- 
ing still. 

"  Goin'  Jellico  way  ? " 

"  I  reckon  it's  the  nearest  road  to  get  a  team  over, 
ain't  it  ? "  asked  Naomi. 

"  Depends  on  whar  you're  goin'." 

"  Over  the  line  to  Tennessee." 

"  You  air" 

There  was  triumph  in  the  tone.  Naomi  noted  it,  and 
smiled.  The  smile  was  safe.  She  was  still  ahead  of 
her  questioner. 

"And  you've  done  made  up  your  mind  to  go  to 
Jellico  to-day  ? " 

"  Well,"  said  Naomi  slowly,  "  Dal  thought  we  might 
get  a  team  to  haul  abaout  to  Jellico,  or  maybe  a  little 
beyond  there  to-day." 

"  I  hain't  sure  you'll  git  much  beyond,"  he  said  sig- 
nificantly. 

"  It  '11  depend  on  the  mules,"  replied  Naomi ;  but  the 
smile  on  her  face  broadened. 

There  was  a  longer  pause.  The  footsteps  dropped 
behind. 

"Well,  you  won't  git  no  team  of  me.  I'm  aimin'  to 
go  to  Jellico  myself  to-day." 

The  voice  had  grown  gruff  again.  John  Sharp  had 
acquired  all  the  information  he  deemed  that  he  needed. 


82  VISITING   THE    SIN 

"  Yes  ?     I  thought  likely  you  were." 

Any  one  of  a  suspicious  turn  of  mind  might  have 
imagined  that  Naomi's  visit  to  Will  Graham  was  purely 
a  matter  of  form.  Will  was  not  a  staunch  friend  to 
the  mill  owner,  and  he  decided  that  he  had  no  team 
to  spare. 

"  Well,  I  ain't  despairing  of  getting  one  yet,"  said  the 
girl  cheerfully.  "Anyhow,  I'll  bid  you  good-by,  for 
fear  I  shouldn't  see  you  again." 

She  went  back  with  a  brisk  step.  John  Sharp  judged 
that  she  was  in  too  much  of  a  hurry  to  see  him  as  he 
came  to  the  door  to  look  after  her.  He  was  mistaken, 
however.  She  saw  him,  and  that  amused  smile  crossed 
her  face  again. 

An  hour  from  the  time  of  her  arrival  at  her  own 
house  a  mule  wagon,  piled  high  with  the  goods  she  had 
decided  to  take  with  her,  was  ready  to  be  in  motion. 
Duke  and  Charley,  saddled  and  waiting,  impatiently, 
pawed  the  ground.  A  neighbour  was  to  drive  the 
mules. 

"  Git  ur-rp  !  "  shouted  the  driver. 

Naomi  came  out  of  the  house,  and  locked  the  door. 
She  bestowed  the  key  in  a  hiding-place  round  the  cor- 
ner. There  had  been  no  time  for  the  removal  of  many 
things  which  had  changed  owners,  but  had  yet  to  change 
hands. 

"  Your  wife  will  know  where  to  get  the  key,  Mance," 
said  the  girl,  addressing  her  words  to  the  driver  of  the 
mules. 

"  Lor,  yes,"  he  said.     "  Git  ur-rp  !  " 

The  girl  gave  one  backward  look  at  the  house.  Her 
lips  were  not  quite  steady.  She  had  put  as  much  hope 
as  labour  into  the  arranging  of  that  home  for  herself 
and  Dal. 

"  Ready,  Dal  ?  "  she  called,  turning  from  the  building 
and  springing  into  the  saddle. 


VISITING   THE   SIN  83 

Her  brother  came  in  sight  at  the  moment.  He  had 
been  securing  the  entrances  to  the  mill. 

"  Go  ahead,"  he  said. 

So  the  little  cavalcade  started,  taking  the  road  to 
Jellico.  It  was  not  until  it  was  well  on  its  way  that 
John  Sharp  saddled  his  horse  and  rode  after.  He  had 
spent  the  interval  between  Naomi's  passing  and  the 
present  moment  hanging  round  such  elevations  as  af- 
forded a  view  of  the  mill  owner's  premises. 

"  I  thought  maybe  she  might  be  foolin'  me,"  he 
said. 

"John  Sharp's  took  the  road,"  announced  Naomi, 
looking  back  from  the  top  of  a  long  hill,  the  summit  of 
which  commanded  a  fine  view  of  Cedar  Fork  valley. 

Dai's  lips  were  set.  His  face  showed  no  reflection  of 
the  amused  smile  that  set  Naomi's  all  alight. 

"  There  '11  come  a  time  when  I  shan't  have  to  sneak 
off  like  a  thief,"  he  said. 

"  Sneak  off  ?  Do  you  call  this  sneaking  ?  My  sakes ! 
It  seems  open  enough,  with  John  Sharp  riding  behind 
to  see  you  don't  escape  him." 

Her  laugh  was  loud  and  musical.  It  travelled  back 
along  the  road  towards  the  foot  of  the  hill,  where  John 
Sharp  rode  by  the  side  of  the  teamster  and  his  mules. 
The  worthy  John  was  improving  the  opportunity  by 
plying  Mance  with  questions.  He  had  ridden  hard  to 
secure  the  privilege. 

"  Goin'  to  Jellico,  air  they  ?  "  he  asked,  a  little  breath- 
less after  his  quick  ride. 

"  Hit  lue-ukes  like  hit,"  replied  Mance. 

"I  warn't  sure  they'd  come  this  away,"  continued 
John. 

"  Nearest,  hain't  hit  ?  " 

"  I  reckon.  But  thar  might  be  reasons  for  Dai's  goin' 
another  way." 

"Thar  mi-ight,"  assented  the  teamster.     "I  reckon 


84  VISITING   THE    SIN 

they're  goin'  this  away,  though.  Naomi's  a  mighty 
good  manager.  Hit's  her  that's  puttin'  this  movin' 
through." 

John  chuckled. 

"  Hit  hain't  through  yit,"  he  said. 

"  No.  This  load's  powerful  heavy.  We  hain't  goin' 
to  git  there  till  atter  noon." 

"  Is  Naomi  aimin'  to  stop  in  Jellico  to-night  ?  "  asked 
John. 

"  That  depends,"  was  the  answer.  "  She's  a  leetle 
inclined  to  git  on  a  bit  further  'n  Jellico  afore  sun- 
down. " 

"Is  she?  I  dare  swar  she  won't  du  hit,"  replied 
John. 

"I  hain't  sure,"  returned  the  teamster.  "That 
team  '11  du  hit  if  any  mules  can." 

"  Naomi  Mozingo  won't  go  no  further  'n  Jellico  to- 
night, and  no  more  won't  Dal,"  said  John  confidently. 

"Don't  you  be  too  sure,"  said  the  driver.  "That  girl 
don't  stand  contrairyin'  well,  and  she's  aimin'  to  go 
further.  Not  a  smart  sight,  but  over  inter  Ten- 
nessee." 

"  You  goin'  plumb  thar  with  'em  ?  "asked  John. 

"  Whar  ? " 

"  To  the  place  whar  Dai's  goin'." 

"  Lor,  no  !  I'm  goin'  jist  over  the  line  inter  Tennes- 
see. They  hain't  goin'  to  take  these  fixin's  right  on  now. 
They're  goin'  to  leave  'em  some  place  a  little  ways  over, 
and  fetch  'em  when  they're  ready." 

"Air  they  ? "  said  John  Sharp  shortly. 

He  rode  by  the  side  of  the  wagon  until  more  than 
half  of  the  journey  was  accomplished.  Evidently  he  was 
intent  on  making  sure  that  the  mountain  town  was  the 
real  destination  of  the  party.  When  noon  was  past,  he 
pushed  forward.  Dalbert  and  Naomi  were  some  dis- 
tance ahead. 


VISITING   THE   SIN  85 

"Been  taking  it  quietly,  haven't  you,  John?"  re- 
marked Naomi. 

Dalbert  drew  himself  up  a  little  straighter,  and  vouch- 
safed no  word  as  the  farmer  passed. 

"I've  done  tuk  hit  the  way  that  suited  me,"  was  the 
insolent  answer.  "  I  reckon  I  know  what  I'm  abaout." 

"  Likely,"  said  Naomi. 

He  gave  his  horse  a  savage  blow  with  a  stick  he  car- 
ried, and  made  off  in  hot  haste.  The  brother  and  sister 
saw  his  horse  straining  up  the  next  hill.  When  he  was 
out  of  sight,  Naomi  drew  out  a  big,  old-fashioned  watch, 
and  noted  the  time. 

"  He'll  be  there  in  an  hour  and  a  half  at  that  pace," 
she  said. 

She  leaned  forward,  and  patted  Duke's  neck. 

"  Are  you  going  to  let  him  run  away  from  you-u  ? " 
she  questioned,  in  a  sharp,  clear  voice. 

The  horse  pricked  up  his  ears,  and  mended  his  pace. 
In  the  next  half -hour  the  pair  left  the  wagon  far  behind. 

"  You  turn  off  here,"  said  Naomi  at  last. 

Neither  she  nor  Dal  had  spoken  for  many  minutes. 

"  Yes,"  he  said ;  but  he  still  rode  by  her  side. 

"  I  wish  it  was  safe  to  go  right  on  to  Jellico  and  brave 
him,"  he  said  at  last. 

"  It  isn't.     And,  if  it  was,  I  should  lose  some  sport." 

"  It's  no  fun  for  me,"  he  said. 

"  It  would  be  if  you  could  see  John  Sharp's  face  when 
I  ride  into  Jellico  alone,"  she  replied. 

"  Well,  if  it's  got  to  be  done,  the  sooner,  the  better," 
he  said,  and  turned  and  rode  back  to  where  a  bridle-path 
led  over  a  great  spur  of  the  mountain. 

She  reined  in  her  horse,  and  watched  him  until  he 
disappeared  among  the  trees.  The  path  he  had  taken 
would  lead  him  out  of  the  State  of  Kentucky  into  that 
of  Tennessee.  The  usual  route  was  through  Jellico,  for 
the  little  mountain  town  lay  half  in  one  State  and  half 


86  VISITING   THE   SIN 

in  the  other.  The  mountain  path  was  rougher  and 
longer,  and  led  in  a  different  direction ;  but  it  would 
take  her  brother  out  of  Kentucky,  and  that  was  the 
object  of  Naomi's  desire  at  the  present  moment. 

The  impulse  to  hasten  seemed  to  have  deserted  her 
after  Dalbert's  departure.  She  let  Duke  take  his  time, 
and  even  stop  now  and  again  to  snatch  a  mouthful  of 
grass. 

"John  Sharp  won't  be  expecting  us  yet,"  she  said. 
"  We're  in  no  hurry,  Duke." 

It  was  two  hours  later,  when  she  was  near  ing  Jellico, 
that  she  saw  the  farmer  riding  back.  He  was  not  alone. 
The  glimmer  of  a  smile  played  upon  Naomi's  lips  as  she 
recognized  the  sheriff  by  Sharp's  side. 

"How  I  wish  I  was  near  enough  to  see  John's  face 
now  !  "  she  said. 

He  had  recognised  her,  she  was  sure,  and  was  looking 
for  Dal.  He  came  hurrying  up,  with  the  officer  close 
behind  him.  She  could  see  the  disappointment  on  his 
face  clearly  enough  now. 

"Whar's  Dal?"  he  shouted. 

"  Dal  warn't  aimin'  to  come  this  away,"  said  Naomi, 
calmly. 

"What?     What's  that?" 

"  Dal  warn't  aimin'  to  come  this  away,"  she  repeated. 
"  Howdy."  This  as  greeting  to  the  sheriff. 

"  He  warn't  ? " 

John  Sharp  glowered  at  her  from  the  back  of  his 
horse. 

"No.  I'm  aimin'  to  see  after  the  team.  Dal  had 
other  business." 

"  Whar  ? " 

"In  Tennessee." 

Sharp  brought  his  horse  so  near  that  he  crowded 
Duke  back. 

"  Whar's  that  lyin'  sneak  now  ?  That's  what  I  want 
to  know,"  he  shouted. 


VISITING   THE    SIN  87 

"I  don't  know  anybody  to  answer  to  that  descrip- 
tion/' replied  the  girl,  looking  calmly  into  the  angry- 
face. 

"  Whar's  Dal  ? "  shouted  the  mountaineer. 

"In  Tennessee  somewheres,  I  reckon.  I  can't  say 
exactly  whe-ere,"  she  said. 

"  Fooled  agin,  hain't  ye,  John  ?  " 

There  was  a  laugh  in  the  sheriff's  eyes  as  he  turned 
them  first  on  the  angry  mountaineer  and  then  on  the 
girl. 

"Fooled!  Hit'd  take  the  devil  himself  to  git  the 
better  o'  that  gal ;  and  he  hain't  likely  to  try,  for  the 
witch  is  in  league  with  him." 

"  Well,  I  reckon  thar  hain't  no  good  standin'  here,  is 
thar?"  asked  the  sheriff.  "We-all  might  as  well  git 
back  to  Jellico,  unless  you're  aimin'  to  go  right  on 
home." 

"Aimin'!"  said  Sharp  savagely.  "Whar's  the  good 
aimin'  ? " 

The  sheriff  laughed,  and  turned  back,  riding  by 
Naomi's  side.  John  Sharp  held  his  horse  still  upon  the 
road,  glowering  after  them.  In  the  end  he  decided  to 
go  on  to  Jellico,  "  and  see  if  that  gal  warn't  lyin'.  Dal 
was  as  likely  to  be  thar  now  as  not." 

The  mule  wagon  arrived  at  Jellico  in  time  to  cross 
before  dark  the  boundary  line  that  divided  the  little 
town  between  two  States,  and  to  go  on  further  to  a 
hamlet  where  the  goods  were  to  be  left  for  the  present. 
Naomi  found  Dalbert  there  before  her.  He  was  in  a 
fever  of  impatience,  fearing  that  she  had  met  with 
annoyance  at  Jellico.  He  had  ridden  hard  to  reach 
the  meeting-place  early,  and  his  horse  looked  hot  and 
worried. 

Naomi  came  in  ahead  of  the  wagon.  When  Jellico 
was  left  behind,  she  had  hurried  on  to  set  Dalbert's 
mind  at  rest. 


88  VISITING   THE    SIN 

"  We-el,"  she  said  laughingly,  "  we're  he-ere." 

"  Has  that  rascal  interfered  with  either  you  or  the 
things  ? "  asked  Dalbert  hotly. 

"Who?  John  Sharp?  I  guess  he's  standing  in  the 
middle  of  the  road,  cursing  me  and  fate.  That's  what 
he  was  doing  when  I  saw  him  last." 

Even  Dalbert  could  not  forbear  a  smile. 


VISITING   THE    SIN  89 


CHAPTER   VI 

GOOD  evening,  friend." 
The  riders  looked  weary.     For  the  last  hour 
Dalbert  had  been  seeking  for  a  possible  resting- 
place  for  the  night.     He  thought  he  saw  it  in  a  double 
log  house  standing  at  a  sharp  bend  in  the  road,  so  as 
almost  to  face  the  travellers  as  they  looked  at  it  from 
a  distance.     A  man  in  shirt-sleeves,  with  a  pipe  in  his 
mouth,  was  walking  towards  it.     Dalbert  greeted  him. 
,    "  Good-evenin'.     Won't  you  come  in  bye  ? " 

The  speaker  stared  in  an  openly  curious  but  perfectly 
friendly  manner  at  the  strangers. 

"Goin'  on  to  the  Gap?"    he  asked,  before  Dalbert 
could  accept  or  refuse  his  invitation. 
"  Not  to-night.     We're  played  aout." 
"  Lueke  like  hit.     'Light,  and  come  in  ?  " 
"  Yes,  if  you've  room  to  put  us  up." 
"  Room  ?     Shucks  !  we've  got  plenty  o'  that." 
They  were  opposite  the  house  now  ;  and  Naomi  looked 
sharply  at  the  deeply  shadowed  space  between  the  slop- 
ing roofs  that,  beginning  at  either  end  of  the  two  distinct 
log  buildings,  dipped  down  till  they  met  over  the  open, 
ing  between,  forming  a  cool,  covered  passage  that  sepa- 
rated, while  it  connected,  the  two  halves  of  the  house. 
It  was  the  lounging-place  of  the  household,  and  in  it  was 
gathered  the  family  party,  enjoying  the  coolness  of  its 
breezy  shelter. 

Naomi  was  engaged  in  a  little  mental  calculation. 
The  house  was  large ;  but  so  were  the  inmates  in  point 
of  numbers. 

"  Come  in  and  stay  with  me  to-night  ?  " 


9o  VISITING   THE    SIN 

An  elderly  woman  removed  the  pipe  from  her  mouth 
to  proffer  the  invitation.  Three  grown-up  sons  stared 
meditatively,  while  they  puffed  smoke  into  the  air  and 
waited  for  the  answer. 

"We  should  be  glad,"  said  Naomi;  "but  have  you 
room  enough  ? " 

"  Oh,  lor  !  we've  got  lots  o'  rue-ume,"  said  the  woman, 
good-naturedly.  "Go  and  he'p  her  'light,  Siles." 

The  young  man  who  came  forward  at  his  mother's 
bidding  looked  with  undisguised  admiration  into  the  face 
of  the  girl.  It  was  a  little  whiter  than  usual  with  weari- 
ness, the  effect  of  the  excitement  of  the  preceding  day ; 
but  Siles  found  it  irresistibly  bewitching. 

"Let  me  he'p  you  down,"  he  said,  not  without  a 
stammer  born  of  bewildered  admiration. 

"  Thank  you,  Duke  will  stand." 

She  sprang  to  the  ground  without  touching  the  prof- 
fered hand,  and  gently  stroked  Duke's  nose.  Then  she 
moved  slowly  towards  the  family  party  in  the  deep,  cov- 
ered alley.  Five  pairs  of  eyes  other  than  those  which 
belonged  to  the  parents  or  the  grown-up  sons  carefully 
followed  her  movements. 

"  Come  right  in,"  said  the  good  wife  heartily. 

She  led  the  way  into  the  one  room  the  left-hand  wing 
of  the  house  contained.  It  was  large,  and  served  the 
purpose  of  kitchen,  dining,  and  living  room  generally. 
The  fire  had  not  quite  died  down. 

"I'll  keen  hit  ur-rp,  and  cue-uke  ye  some  supper," 
said  the  woman.  "  My  lor  !  you  du  lueke  tired.  Here, 
Siles,  hump  around,  and  git  me  some  wood." 

A  panful  of  pork  was  soon  sizzling  over  the  cracking 
sticks,  and  the  housewife  was  bustling  about  to  attend 
to  the  wants  of  her  visitors. 

"  I'll  jist  set  the  biscuit  to  warm,"  she  said.  "  Thar 
hain't  no  sense  makin'  more  when  thar's  plenty  left. 
You-uns  want  to  eat  as  quick  as  you  can.  Goin' 
through  the  Gap  to-morrer,  did  ye  say  ? " 


VISITING    THE    SIN  91 

«  Yes.     We  stop  at  Big  Creek." 

«  You  du  ? " 

"Is  it  far  from  here  ?  "  asked  Naomi. 

"  Abaout  six  miles.     Be  you  goin'  to  stay  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  replied  Naomi.     "  Have  you  "  — 

"  And  him,  too  ?  " 

The  woman  jerked  her  thumb  in  the  direction  of  the 
door,  through  which  Dalbert's  voice  could  be  heard. 

"  Yes,"  said  Naomi.     "  Have  "  — 

"  Is  he  your  man  ? "  interrupted  the  hostess. 

"  He  is  my  brother." 

"Is?  Well,  I  doclar!  And  you  and  rum's  goin'  to 
live  at  Big  Creek." 

"  Yes.     Do  you  know  Big  Creek  ? " 

"  I  reckon.  I've  been  thar  more  'n  onct.  Are  your 
parents  livin'  ? " 

"No,"  said  Naomi,  with  a  little  frown.  She  was 
thinking  of  her  father. 

"  Hain't  ?     And  you  live  with  this  brother  ?  " 

"  Yes.     Have  you  been  in  this  "  — 

"  Got  ary  other  brothers  or  sisters  ?  " 

"No,"  replied  the  girl,  once  more  leaving  her  ques- 
tion unfinished. 

"  /  declar.  And  you  and  him  kinder  keeps  together, 
don't  ye  ?  I  shouldn't  wonder  now  if  your  parents  left 
you  both  a  little,  and  by  puttin'  hit  together  you  can 
make  aout  tol'rable  well." 

The  supposition  was  of  the  nature  of  an  inquiry,  but 
Naomi  failed  to  take  it  as  it  was  meant. 

"  How  many  years  have  you  lived  "  —  she  began,  but 
was  again  cut  short. 

"  Does  he  du  anything  for  a  livin'  ?  " 

"  My  brother  ?  Yes,  he  is  on  his  way  to  take  charge 
of  the  saw-mill  at  Big  Creek." 

"  Well,  /  declar !  And  you're  goin',  too  ?  Be  you 
goin'  to  do  ary  sort  o'  work, —  school-teachin'  or  any- 
thing?" 


92  VISITING   THE    SIN 

"I  look  after  things  for  my  brother,"  said  Naomi, 
somewhat  wearily. 

She  saw  no  reason  for  refusing  to  answer  the  ques- 
tions of  her  hostess,  but  she  found  them  tiresome.  Yet 
in  spite  of  the  weariness  a  smile  of  amusement  grew 
broader  on  her  lips  as  she  saw  her  interrogator's  mouth 
hastily  forming  another  question. 

"  Aimin'  to  board  somewhars,  or  to  keep  house  ? " 

"To  keep  house.     It  is  pleasanter." 

"  It  is  so.  But  you've  got  to  hev  some  fixin's.  Aimin' 
to  bring  'em  along,  or  buy  'em  ? " 

"  Both,"  said  Naomi,  the  smile  breaking  into  a  laugh. 

"  Well,  /  dectar  !     Bringin'  'em  fur  ?  " 

"  From  beyond  Jellico,"  replied  Naomi,  pleasantly 

"  Well,  /  declar  !     Come  from  thar  to-day  ? " 

"  No.      We  started  yesterday." 

"Did?  And  you  and  him's  goin'  to  Big  Creek  to 
keep  house  together  ? " 

"  Yes,"  replied  Naomi,  "  like  you  do.  How  long  have 
you  been  "  — 

"  Then  he  hain't  married  ? " 

"  No,"  answered  the  girl,  a  little  quiver  of  laughter  in 
her  voice. 

"  And  hain't  he  got  no  gal  he's  payin'  attentions  to  ? " 

"He  has  never  said  so,"  responded  Naomi,  trying  to 
keep  her  voice  in  character  with  the  gravity  of  the  occa- 
sion. 

"Well,  /  dectar/  And  hain't  thar  no  young  feller 
a-comin'  atter  you  ? " 

"I  didn't  see  one  on  the  road,"  said  Naomi  inno- 
cently. 

The  woman  laughed  with  good-humoured  loudness. 

"  Maybe  you  won't  hev  to  lue-uke  powerful  long 
afore  you  du,"  she  said.  "Did  you  live  thar,  away 
back  from  Jellico  ?  " 

"Yes,  right  in  among  the  mountains." 


VISITING   THE    SIN  93 

"Well,  /  Aoclar!  And  what  did  you  and  him  du 
thar  ? " 

"  My  brother  had  a  saw-mill  of  his  own ;  but  his  part- 
ner left,  and  he  had  to  give  it  up,"  said  Naomi. 

"  /  declar.  Warn't  you  plumb  sorry  to  come  away  ? 
You  made  a  smart  sight  o'  friends  among  the  men,  I 
dare  swar.  They-uns  don't  see  a  pretty  face  like  yourn 
every  day." 

Naomi  laughed 

"  I've  been  wondering  how  long  you've  lived  here," 
she  said,  putting  into  words  the  question  that  had  many 
times  before  attempted  to  pass  her  lips. 

"  Me  ?     Lor !  I  was  raised  right  har." 

"  Then  you  remember  the  time  before  the  war  ?  "  said 
Naomi,  a  little  eagerly. 

"Remember?  I  reckon  I  du.  You  don't,  though, 
I'll  swar.  How  old  might  you  be,  datter  ? " 

"  I  was  seven  when  my  father  went  away,  and  that 
was  in  the  earliest  part  of  the  war,"  said  Naomi. 

"  Was  ?  Well,  /  declar  !  And  is  your  brother  older 
or  younger  than  you  ? " 

"  Older,  by  two  years." 

"  Is  ?     Did  your  pappy  go  to  the  war  ?  " 

"  No.  At  least,  I  think  not,"  replied  Naomi.  "  Per- 
haps, as  you  lived  here  at  the  time,  you  could  judge 
better  what  happened  to  him  than  I  could.  Did  you 
ever  see  droves  of  mules  driven  through  here  just  before 
the  soldiers  came  to  these  parts  ?  " 

"  Lor,  yes !  lots  of  times.  They  was  goin'  to 
Georgy." 

"Yes,  my  father  was  going  there.  We  heard  from 
him  at  Big  Creek,  and"  — 

"  And  he  kinder  deserted  ye,  and  went  off  to  the  war. 
Well,  /  dectarf  You  hain't  the  fust  that's  been  left 
that  away,  though." 

"No,  you  mistake,"  said  Naomi  sharply.     "We  had 


94  VISITING   THE    SIN 

no  reason  for  supposing  he  went  to  the  war.  We  never 
heard  of  him  after,  but  "  — 

"  Didn't  ?  /  declar  !  And  you  don't  know  whether 
he  was  killed  or  not." 

"No,"  said  Naomi.  "We  are  hoping  to  find  some- 
body who  remembers  him  and  his  drove  of  mules." 

"  Hit  hain't  likely  you'll  du  tha-at,"  said  the  woman 
confidently.  "  Lor !  thar  was  heaps  o'  mules  come 
through  in  them  days,  and  people's  minds  was  disturbed 
by  the  war  that  come  soon  atter.  Thar  wouldn't  nobody 
remember  hi-im" 

Naomi  sighed.  The  prospect  was  not  encouraging, 
and  she  was  tired. 

"  What  did  your  mammy  du  when  she  found  her  man 
had  deserted  her  ? "  asked  the  hostess,  stopping  in  the 
operation  of  dishing  up  the  pork  to  put  the  question. 

"  My  mother  died  years  before,"  said  Naomi  coldly. 

"  Did  ?  Well,  /  doctor  /  And  you  and  your  brother 
was  all  alone,  warn't  ye  ? " 

"  No,"  replied  Naomi.  "  My  father's  sister  was  with 
us.  She  took  care  of  us." 

"  That  was  good.  And  did  she  du  hit  aout  of  her 
own  pocket,  or  was  thar  somethin'  left  to  keep  you  two 
young-uns  ? " 

"  She  was  very  good,"  said  Naomi,  "  but  she  had  not 
to  do  it  all." 

"  Hadn't  ?  That  was  good.  And  she  was  kind  to 
ye?  Well,  fdeclarf  Come  in,  son."  This  to  Dalbert, 
who  stood  in  the  doorway.  "Your  supper's  cueked. 
Come  and  eat." 

And,  while  they  ate,  a  constant  stream  of  questions 
poured  from  the  good  woman's  lips.  If  she  did  not 
know  all  about  the  past  and  present  life  of  her  guests 
before  supper  was  finished,  it  was  solely  for  want  of 
sufficient  ingenuity  to  frame  another  question.  < 

"  Like  to  set  and  cool  off  a  bit  ?  "  asked  the  hostess, 
when  dishes  and  cups  were  disposed  of. 


VISITING   THE    SIN  95 

"  Git  a  light  and  bring  it  in  the  other  rue-ume,"  sug- 
gested her  husband.  "Thar's  fallin'  weather  comin'." 

The  patter  of  rain  was  already  to  be  heard  without. 
A  shower  was  to  be  looked  for. 

The  other  room  proved  to  be  the  whole  of  the  opposite 
wing  of  the  house.  It  was  of  the  same  size  and  shape 
as  that  in  which  supper  had  been  eaten.  The  good  wife 
had  said  she  had  plenty  of  sleeping  accommodation. 
After  a  careful  examination  of  that  big  apartment,  Naomi 
concluded  that  she  had  —  so  far  as  beds  were  concerned. 
One  in  every  corner  was  not  the  end  of  the  story  here, 
for  the  room  was  big  enough  to  hold  more ;  and  what 
was  a  bedroom  unless  filled  with  beds  ?  Accordingly, 
two  stood  boldly  out  in  the  middle  of  the  floor,  leaving 
a  narrow  passage  between  themselves  and  the  four 
sleeping-places  in  the  corners. 

"Feel  tol'rable  satisfied  now,  don't  you?"  inquired 
the  good  woman,  following  Naomi's  look  with  a  satisfied 
glance  of  her  own,  and  chuckling  a  little  over  what  must 
be  the  outcome  of  the  inspection.  "  You-uns  was  scart 
abaout  thar  not  bein'  beds  enough,  warn't  ye  ? " 

Naomi  gasped.  There  was  —  well  —  perhaps  a  little 
too  much  accommodation. 

"  Do  you  all  sleep  here  ? "  she  asked. 

"  Lor,  yes  !  "  replied  the  hostess,  proudly.  "  Hit's 
powerful  warm  and  comfortable  in  the  winter.  Thar 
now,  you  jist  take  your  choice.  Fix  on  ary  bed  o'  the 
six,  and  hit  shall  be  saved  for  ye." 

Naomi  expressed  due  gratitude,  and  mentally  vowed 
that  it  should  not. 

"Well,  you  are  generously  provided,"  she  said.  "I 
never  had  more  than  one  bed  in  ary  room  in  my  house." 

"  Didn't  ?  Well,  /  feclar  !  Jim,  du  you  hear  tha-at  ? 
She  hain't  never  seed  so  many  beds  in  a  rue-ume 
before." 

Her  husband  laughed  loudly. 


96  VISITING   THE    SIN 

"Lor!  we  hain't  short  o'  beds,"  he  said.  "  Sakes 
alive,  if  we  was  put  to  hit,  we  could  find  another  yit." 

"  You  couldn't  put  it  in  here,"  suggested  Naomi,  dip- 
lomatically. 

"  Lor !  we  don't  want :  hit's  put  a' ready,"  laughed  the 
host.  "  You  come  and  see." 

She  followed  him  into  the  covered  passage,  where  the 
raindrops  were  being  swept  in  by  the  wind. 

"  Thar ! "  said  her  guide,  triumphantly  pointing  to  a 
small,  shed-like  extension.  "  Hit's  a  real  old-fashioned 
bedstead  in  thar.  Ever  sleep  on  one  o'  that  sort  ? " 

"  No,"  said  the  girl,  leaning  forward  into  the  rain  to 
peer  in  at  the  door  he  opened. 

"Wait  till  I  fetch  a  light.     Hit's  plumb  dark  thar." 

He  went  off  in  haste,  eager  to  display  all  his  posses- 
sions, and  Naomi  stepped  across  the  intervening  space, 
and  took  refuge  in  the  shed.  Its  hinged  shutter  was  at 
present  closed,  and  but  little  light  penetrated  the  in- 
terior. When  the  lamp  arrived,  the  girl  saw  the  most 
primitive  form  of  the  old-time  Kentucky  bedstead. 
Two  large  auger-holes  had  been  bored  in  the  log  wall, 
and  into  each  a  pole  had  been  thrust.  At  the  other 
ends  of  the  poles  forked  sticks  reached  to  the  puncheon 
floor.  On  this  framework  rested  boards  that  made  a 
firm,  if  not  a  soft  foundation  for  the  straw  bed  that 
Naomi  forthwith  appropriated  as  her  sleeping-place. 

"Ever  see  sich  a  bed  as  tha-at  ? "  asked  her  host,  com- 
placently. 

"  No,"  replied  the  girl.  "  I'm  going  to  sleep  here,  and 
see  what  it  feels  like." 

"Hear  that,  mammy?"  laughed  the  good  man. 
"She's  that  tuk  with  the  old  bed  that  she  wants  to 
sleep  on  hit." 

"  Nary  bit  of  hit,"  said  his  wife,  coming  hastily  to  the 
rescue.  "  With  the  other  rue-ume  plumb  full  o'  gue-ude 
beds,  we  hain't  goin'  to  let  strangers  sleep  thar." 


VISITING   THE    SIN  97 

"  But  I  want  to  try  it.  I've  never  seen  anything  like 
it  before,"  protested  Naomi. 

"Hain't?  Well,  /  dec/arf  Hit's  good  enough  to 
lue-uke  at,  but  hit  hain't  as  soft  to  sleep  in  as  a  goose- 
feather  bed.  Come  and  hev  your  pick  o'  the  others. 
You're  powerful  welcome." 

"  I  can  sleep  on  a  bed  of  goose  feathers  any  day," 
persisted  Naomi.  "  I'm  going  to  stay  here,  and  try  a 
real  old-fashioned  bed." 

"  Lor !  hit's  so  powerful  lonesome.  You  can  jist  as 
well  sleep  on  one  o'  them  six." 

The  good  woman  looked  distressed. 

"If  you  offer  me  all  the  six,  I  would  rather  stay 
here,"  said  Naomi.  "  You  promised  me  I  should  have 
my  choice." 

"  Lor !  let  her  hev  her  own  way,"  said  the  host,  good- 
naturedly.  "  Hit's  a  si-ight  what  tickles  some  people." 

But  the  thought  of  her  six  beds  yet  troubled  his  wife. 

"  Oh,  pshar !  You  hain't  no  call  to  think  hit's  ary 
trouble  hevin'  another  one  in  that  rue-ume,"  she  said. 
"  Why,  gal,  you  hain't  used  to  hevin'  a  plenty.  One 
bed  in  a  rue-ume' s  too  poor  for  me-e." 

"  No.  I  ain't  used  to  it,  that's  just  how  it  is,"  said 
Naomi,  gravely.  "  I  shall  feel  ever  so  much  more  at  home 
here." 

"  Let  her  stop,  mammy,"  said  her  host.  "  Maybe 
she'll  be  drappin'  asleep  faster  'n  she  would  in  the  other 
rue-ume.  Folks  feels  a  right  smart  more  comfortable 
with  what  they're  used  to,  if  hit  hain't  as  good  as  they 
might  hev." 


98  VISITING   THE    SIN 


CHAPTER  VII 

"  f   |   THINGS  look  a  sight  more  hopeful  in  the  morn- 
ing than  they  do  after  sundown." 
A        Naomi    had    shaken   off  the   depression   of 
Cedar  Fork  with  the  mists  of  the  night.     It  was  past. 
Let  it  rest  until  it  could  be  redeemed  by  the  future. 
She  braced  herself  to  meet  that  future,  which,  by  some 
inexplicable  chance,  was  connected  with  an  earlier  past. 

Notwithstanding  the  "  lonesomeness "  of  her  chosen 
sleeping-place,  the  girl  had  made  such  good  use  of  her 
time  that  Siles  and  the  other  sons  were  dumb  before  the 
vision  that  met  them  at  early  dawn.  The  wearied  face 
of  the  evening  before  had  been  too  fair  for  safety ;  but 
this  —  they  succumbed  silently.  Not  so  their  mother. 
Silence  and  the  good  wife  had  nothing  in  common,  unless 
it  were  a  compact  to  keep  well  out  of  each  other's  way. 

"  Well,  / dectar/  Thar  hain't  no  call  to  ask  whether 
you  slep*  well." 

She  stood  and  stared  at  her  visitor. 

"  Which  of  your  parents  do  you  favour  ?  "  she  asked, 
after  that  careful  scrutiny. 

"  Both ;  but  my  father  most,"  said  Naomi. 

"  Well,  /  feclar  /  "  ejaculated  the  good  woman.  "  He 
must  'a  been  a  powerful  handsome  man." 

Naomi  smiled  and  sighed.  The  neighbourhood  of  Big 
Creek  Gap  had  brought  the  past  out  of  the  region  of 
imagination  into  that  of  reality.  Along  this  road  her 
father  had  driven  his  mules. 

"  Think  you  should  know  your  pappy  if  you  was  to 
meet  him  ? "  asked  her  hostess,  her  thoughts  taking  the 
route  along  which  Naomi's  were  travelling. 


VISITING   THE    SIN  99 

"  Yes,"  replied  the  girl  quietly. 

"  Lor  !  you  think  so,"  responded  the  woman.  "  I  hain't 
so  powerful  sure.  Folks  gits  plumb  changed  in  that 
time,  and  bein'  in  the  war  hain't  calculated  to  make  'em 
no  handsomer.'* 

"  I  should  know  my  father,"  said  Naomi,  waiving  the 
question  of  the  war.  "  I  was  always  *  father's  girl.'  " 

There  was  a  softening  of  her  voice  that  gave  it  a  new 
tone.  The  woman  looked  at  her  curiously. 

"  Well,  /  dectar  f  You  hain't  got  real  over  hit  yit, 
hev  ye  ?  "  she  said. 

Naomi  shook  off  her  abstraction,  and  in  the  next  half- 
hour  so  effectually  turned  the  heads  of  Siles  and  the 
other  "boys"  that  things  began  to  look  dangerous. 
The  mother  watched  the  girl. 

"  If  you  hain't  got  a  score  o'  fellers  runnin'  atter  you, 
I'm  powerful  sure  hit  hain't  the  fault  o'  the  fellers,"  she 
said  at  last.  "  Lor  !  hit's  a  si-ight." 

Just  what  it  was  that  was  a  "  si-ight  "  she  did  not 
need  to  explain.  She  was  looking  from  the  face  and 
figure  of  the  girl  to  the  three  tall  sons  who  lingered 
near  her. 

"  Better  be  gittin'  along,  hadn't  ye  ? "  she  said,  laugh- 
ing. "  Hit  hain't  safe  to  hev  you  here  ary  longer." 

She  sent  them  away  with  many  good  wishes. 

"Well,  /  dzclar!  They  du  look  a  powerful  pretty 
pair,"  she  said,  gazing  after  them  with  admiration  in  her 
eyes. 

Perhaps  it  was  admiration  that  caused  another  pair  of 
sharp  eyes  to  peer  down  in  a  strangely  eager  fashion  at 
the  brother  and  sister  as  they  neared  the  Gap.  The 
face  to  which  the  eyes  belonged  wore  a  startled  look, 
and  if  a  face  so  wizened  and  seamed  and  hardened  by 
the  pressure  of  time  could  be  relied  upon  to  speak  the 
truth,  bore  witness  to  another  feeling  also. 

"  Whar's  she  come  from,  and  whar's  she  aimin'  to  go 
this  away  ?  " 


ioo  VISITING   THE    SIN 

The  voice  was  hoarse,  like  the  grating  sound  of  a 
worn-out  bell.  It  creaked  angrily,  too.  No,  there  was 
no  admiration  in  the  eyes,  for  they  were  surely  vindic- 
tive. 

The  great  basket  of  roots  and  herbs  that  the  old 
tough  arm  had  carried  easily  was  deposited  hastily  on 
the  ground,  and  brown  fingers  adorned  with  long  claw- 
like  nails  were  lifted  to  shade  eyes  that  were  as  keen  as 
ever  after  a  hundred  years  of  wear. 

The  watcher  was  on  a  point  of  vantage.  A  big  rock 
that  cropped  out  of  the  hillside  back  from  the  road  gave 
her  shelter,  where  she  could  see  without  being  seen,  and 
a  sharp  curve  lent  additional  facilities,  for  the  travellers 
were  for  the  moment  facing  her.  Naomi  had  just 
broken  a  long  silence,  in  which  brother  and  sister  had 
been  looking  at  the  scene  with  eyes  that  saw  back 
through  the  years.  The  girl's  face  was  lighted  by  a 
smile. 

No,  there  was  no  admiration  in  the  inscrutable  old 
face  that  was  poked  forward  as  the  two  approached. 

"  Thar's  no  mistakin'  that  face.    Thar's  evil  a-comin' !  " 

The  lips  moved  nervously,  and  a  light  that  was  surely 
malevolent  shot  out  from  the  aged  eyes  towards  the 
young  face  below.  Those  eyes  watched  until  the  curve 
was  passed  and  only  the  backs  of  the  travellers  could  be 
seen.  Then  the  brown,  dried-up  fingers  began  again 
their  search  for  roots,  and  the  hoarse  voice  muttered : 
"  Thar's  evil  a-comin' ;  but  we  shall  se-e.  Thar  is  ways. 
Yes,  gal,  we  shall  se-e." 

She  peered  over  again  as  fresh  hoof-beats  sounded 
upon  the  road,  and  then  turned  away  in  disdain. 

"  Hit's  only  old  Gid  Paul." 

The  horseman,  a  tall,  bony  mountaineer,  pushed  for- 
ward until  he  was  alongside  of  the  brother  and  sister. 

"  Howdy  !     Coin'  to  Big  Creek  ? " 

Both  turned  at  his  greeting. 


VISITING    THE    SIN  101 

"  It's  where  we're  aimin'  to  go,"  replied  Dalbert ;  "  but 
that  don't  look  like  getting  there." 

He  pointed  towards  the  wall  of  mountain  that  in  the 
distance  seemed  to  bar  the  way.  The  musical  ripple  of 
water  betrayed  the  fact  that  between  the  heights  that 
skirted  the  road  on  the  left  and  those  which  sloped 
away  at  what  looked  barely  more  than  a  stone's  throw 
to  the  right  ran  Big  Creek  itself,  half  the  time  hidden 
by  the  trees  and  bushes  which  overhung  it.  Right 
ahead  the  mountains  opened  out,  to  afford  room  for  a 
densely  wooded  hill  that  to  all  appearance  stretched 
from  side  to  side  of  the  defile. 

"  A  powerful  wild-lookin'  place,  hain't  hit  ?  "  responded 
the  native,  "  and  a  mighty  lonesome  one  from  here  clar 
through  the  Gap." 

"  Where  is  the  Gap  ?"  asked  Dalbert. 

"  To  the  left.     You'll  see  hit  in  a  minute." 

He  watched  the  brother  and  sister  with  some  amuse- 
ment. In  his  case,  time  and  familiarity  had  toned  down 
admiration  even  for  such  a  scene  as  lay  before  him.  It 
was  the  girl's  face  that  claimed  most  of  his  attention. 
For  the  moment  she  had  almost  forgotten  his  presence. 
She  was  peopling  this  wild  region  with  other  forms  than 
those  of  to-day. 

As  the  travellers  advanced,  a  dark,  narrow  passage 
disclosed  itself,  running  in  close  under  the  mountain 
which  formed  the  left  boundary  of  the  road.  The 
stranger  extended  his  arm  towards  it. 

"Thar!"  he  said.  "That's  the  Gap,  and  that's  the 
gateway  that  all  the  fust  settlers  in  these  parts  come 
through ;  and  nary  one  comin'  this  away  but's  got  to  go 
through  hit  still." 

"  It  looked  more  like  a  wall  than  a  gateway  a  little 
further  back,"  said  Naomi. 

The  old  man  nodded  sagely.     Then  he  laughed. 

"  Hit's  proved  a  mighty  tough  wall  for  some,  if  say- 


102  VISITING   THE    SIN 

in's  don't  lie,"  he  said.  "  Thar's  been  them  that's  found 
hit  a  plumb  easy  gate  to  git  in  and  a  powerful  hard  one 
to  git  aout  of." 

The  startled  eyes  of  the  girl  turned  to  meet  his. 

"  Why,"  she  exclaimed,  "  is  it  dangerous  ? " 

"  Nary  bit/'  was  the  reply.  "  Hit  hain't  a  powerful 
rough  road." 

"  Then  why  should  any  find  difficulty  in  returning  ? " 
she  asked. 

The  old  man  chuckled. 

"  Lor !  hit's  powerful  easy  to  ride  in  a  mule-back,"  he 
said. 

"  And  not  to  ride  aout  again  ? " 

"  Hit  all  depends  on  circumstances,"  replied  the  na- 
tive, sagely.  "  Mules  don't  take  kindly  to  a  dead  hand." 

He  leaned  forward  a  little  to  watch  the  effect  of  his 
words.  Evidently  it  satisfied  him;  for  he  chuckled 
gleefully. 

"My  lor!  don't  be  scart,"  he  said.  "Thar  hain't 
nothin'  goin'  to  stop  you  from  gittin'  aout." 

"  Why  not,  if  other  people  were  stopped  ?  "  asked  the 
girl. 

"  Lor,  mercy  sakes  !  Thar  hain't  nothin'  o'  that  sort 
happened  since  the  war,  and  thar's  them  as  says  hit 
never  happened  afore.  Let  'em  say.  They  don't  fool 
Gid  Paul." 

"  Did  you  live  here  then  ? "  asked  Naomi,  eagerly. 

"  Depends  on  whar  you  mean  by  here,"  he  replied. 
"  I  hain't  never  lived  in  Big  Creek,  and  I  hain't  never 
lived  so  powerful  fur  away." 

"Then  you  should  know  what  happened,"  said  Dal- 
bert. 

"Yes,  I  should— and  I  du." 

He  turned  his  head  and  rode  forward.  They  were  at 
the  entrance  of  the  Gap,  which  had  to  all  appearance 
been  widening  at  every  step  they  took  towards  it.  Now 


VISITING    THE    SIN  103 

it  disclosed  a  passage  girt  by  towering  rocks,  with  the 
road  running  along  a  ledge  on  the  least  precipitous  side 
and  Big  Creek  flowing  over  a  stony  bed  below.  That 
first  ride  through  the  Gap  was  a  blank  to  Dalbert  and 
Naomi,  so  far  as  scenery  was  concerned.  They  had  a 
dim  consciousness  of  vast  rocks  rising  castle-like  across 
the  stream,  and  green  stretches  towering  above  the 
ledge  on  which  their  horses'  feet  sounded  strange  and 
unnatural ;  but  every  distinct  impression  was  swallowed 
up  in  excitement  evoked  by  the  stranger's  words.  Had 
they  come  so  soon  upon  the  explanation  of  the  silence 
that  had  fallen  with  such  suddenness  upon  the  past  ? 

"You're  powerful  unflattering  to  your  part  of  the 
country,"  said  Dalbert,  in  a  tone  loud  enough  to  reach 
the  horseman  ahead.  "Anybody  would  think  it  was 
full  of  rogues." 

The  rider  turned. 

"They'd  think  plumb  wrong,"  he  said,  and  turned 
back. 

Naomi  and  Dalbert  exchanged  glances. 

"Travellers  don't  change  to  dead  men  where  the 
road's  safe  and  the  people  honest,"  said  Naomi,  some- 
what hotly.  "  Unless,  maybe,  your  country's  unhealthy." 

"Hit's  powerful  healthy  now.  Hit  useter  wasn't  — 
for  some  people." 

Again  there  was  an  amused  chuckle. 

"  Well,  you  ain't  very  communicative,"  said  Naomi, 
diplomatically.  "  I  don't  know  but  you're  ri-ight.  It's 
a  smart  sight  better  to  say  too  little  than  too  much. 
What  a  person  can't  prove,  and  ain't  plumb  sure  of,  he'd 
better  not  te-ell." 

The  long  drawl  with  which  the  words  concluded  was 
suggestive  of  satire.  It  brought  the  stranger's  head 
round. 

"When  Gid  Paul  hain't  knowin'  what  he's  talkin' 
abaout,  he'll  shet  his  mouth  and  keep  hit  shet,"  he  said. 


104  VISITING   THE    SIN 

"Why,  ye-es,"  replied  the  girl.  "That's  just  what 
I'm  saying.  You  ha-ave  shut  your  mouth.  It's  a 
si-ight  how  much  wiser  some  people  are  than  others." 

"If  you  think  I  don't  know  what  I'm  talkin'  abaout, 
young  woman,  you're  plumb  aout,"  said  the  stranger, 
his  voice  rising  with  the  strength  of  his  feelings.  "  Thar 
hain't  a  man  in  Campbell  County  knowed  Kennedy  Po- 
teet  better  'n  me.  Hain't  I  fit  him  up  and  daown  this 
Gap,  and  him  throwin'  rocks  at  every  step  ?  Hit  was  a 
si-ight !  He  was  the  fightin'est  man  round,  but  he  was 
powerful  careful  how  he  come  near  me  atter  tha-at." 

"  Then  you  weren't  friends  ? "  hazarded  Naomi. 

"  Friends !     Me  friends  with  Kennedy  Poteet !  " 

He  turned,  and  pushed  forward  in  disgust. 

"  Had  Kennedy  Poteet  anything  to  do  with  making 
this  valley  dangerous  for  travellers  in  the  old  time?" 
questioned  Naomi,  after  a  breathless  pause. 

"  If  he  hadn't,  thar  was  nary  one  that  had,"  said  the 
stranger,  his  eyes  looking  straight  before  him,  and  the 
sound  of  his  voice  going  where  it  pleased. 

"  And  did  he  dare  to  injure  travellers  ? " 

The  man  laughed. 

"  Thar  warn't  much  Kennedy  Poteet  darsn't  du,"  he 
said.  "  Lor,  bless  ye,  you  mayn't  believe  hit,  but  thar 
has  been  some  strange  things  done  daown  thar  in  Big 
Creek.  Thar's  stars  that  has  seed  quar  si-ights,  I  tell 
ye." 

"  The  stars,  and  not  the  sun  ? "  questioned  Dalbert, 
in  a  tone  that  he  forced  to  be  quiet. 

"Yes,  the  stars"  replied  the  stranger  irritably. 
"  Kennedy  Poteet  warn't  sich  a  plumb  fool  as  to  du  his 
deeds  by  daylight." 

"What  were  his  deeds  ?  " 

The  older  man  turned  on  the  younger  quickly. 

"  Lor !  don't  ask  me-e,"  he  said.  "  Maybe  I  don't 
know.  I  warn't  thar,  that's  sure ;  but,  unless  folks  is 


VISITING   THE    SIN  105 

powerful  big  liars,  his  deeds  warn't  of  the  best.  Go  and 
lueke  in  the  bone  cave  if  you're  mighty  anxious  to  see 
what  sort  o'  deeds  he  done." 

"The  bone  cave?" 

Naomi's  voice  was  shrill  with  the  tension  of  the  mo- 
ment. 

"  Yes,  the  bone  cave.  They  du  say  hit  was  thar  he 
put  'em  atter  he'd  done  tuk  all  they'd  got  —  and  the 
biggest  thing  a  man's  got  is  his  li-ife." 

The  last  words  were  spoken  meditatively. 

"  Do  you  mean  that  this  Kennedy  Poteet  killed  men 
and  hid  them  in  a  cave  ? "  asked  Dalbert,  with  a  ring  of 
horror  in  his  voice. 

"  Hit  lueked  powerful  like  hit,"  was  the  answer.  "  I 
hain't  sayin'  for  plumb  sure  he  done  hit.  I  warn't 
thar.  Hit  was  afore  the  war.  I'd  fit  him  more  'n  onct 
when  we  was  young  :  he  was  older  'n  me,  though.  But 
I  lived  up  thar  forenenst  that  peak  in  the  mountain  when 
Kennedy  Poteet  begun  to  grow  rich  sudden.  If  I'd 
been  nearer,  he  wouldn't  'a  found  hit  so  plumb  easy  to 
put  'em  underground.  I  warn't  fur  away,  but  I  was  too 
fur  to  keep  track  o'  him." 

"  But  didn't  people  interfere  ?  Didn't  anybody 
know  ? "  asked  Naomi. 

The  horror  in  her  voice  was  very  apparent  now. 

"Thar  warn't  nobody  that  jist  knowed,"  said  the 
stranger,  "and  thar  warn't  nary  man  that  would  go 
down  inter  that  bone  cave  to  see  —  not  then.  They 
darsn't.  Hit  had  got  a  bad  name.  Thar  was  them  as 
said  thar  was  bones  in  hit  afore  his  time,  and  thar  was 
them  as  said  they  warn't  thar  till  Kennedy  Poteet  begun 
to  put  up  travellers  at  that  big  house  o'  hisn.  They 
come  powerful  often  afore  the  war,  goin'  to  and  gittin' 
back  from  Georgy.  They  druv  mules  and  hogs  down 
thar,  and  come  back  with  the  money." 

"And  he  robbed  them  of  it  ? "  said  Dalbert. 


io6  VISITING   THE    SIN 

"I  hain't  a-sayin'  that,"  was  the  reply.  "Nobody 
cain't  be  plumb  sure.  Thar's  them  as  say  he  didn't.  I 
hain't  one  of  'em.  Anyhow,  Kennedy  Potent  got  rich, 
and  them  strangers  disappeared.  That's  all  thar  is  to 
hit.  Yander's  Big  Creek." 

They  had  come  to  the  outlet  of  the  Gap.  Big  Creek 
Valley,  broad  and  open,  lay  before  them.  The  wild 
grandeur  of  the  pass  was  all  behind,  where  an  anomalous 
figure  that  wore  a  man's  hat  and  coat  over  a  short  skirt 
of  homespun  stood  upon  a  commanding  height  and 
looked  down  at  the  stream  and  at  a  bend  in  the  road 
where  the  horses  had  not  long  since  passed.  The  lips 
were  muttering,  as  they  had  muttered  as  the  three 
riders  moved  beneath ;  and  the  words  sounded  like  an  in- 
cantation. 

It  needed  no  unholy  arts  to  cast  a  spell  over  the 
brother  and  sister  as  they  stopped  and  looked  out  into 
the  valley.  The  words  of  the  stranger  had  proved 
sufficient. 

"  Whar  are  you-uns  aimin'  to  stay  ?  "  he  asked. 

"I'm  going  on  to  the  saw-mill,"  replied  Dalbert, 
absently. 

"  Are  ?     Calc'lathY  to  git  work  thar  ? " 

"  I  have  got  it,"  was  the  reply.  "  I'm  the  new  super- 
intendent." 

"  Say  so  ?  Hit's  all  new  then,  hain't  hit  ? "  observed 
the  stranger.  "We-el,  you-uns  needn't  be  scart. 
Kennedy  Poteet  hain't  in  Big  Creek.  He's  gone  to 
meet  them  he  sent  on  ahead." 

He  rode  straight  on  towards  a  highway  that  crossed 
the  main  road  of  the  valley  at  right  angles. 

"  You  go  that  way,"  he  said,  without  looking  back. 

The  eyes  of  the  brother  and  sister  met.  Naomi's 
face  was  whiter  than  usual. 

"Is  there  any  truth  in  it  ?  "  she  gasped. 

"  I  doubt  it,"  replied  Dalbert,  trying  to  shake  off  the 


VISITING   THE    SIN  107 

feeling  of  oppression.  "There  was  plenty  of  malice, 
anyhow.  That  man  and  Kennedy  Poteet  were  enemies. 
It  may  be  that  is  all  there  is  about  it." 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Naomi  slowly.  "  But  I'm  going 
to  know  ;  and  if  what  he  says  is  tru-ue," — 

She  left  the  sentence  unfinished,  but  Dalbert  read 
part  of  its  ending  in  her  face. 

"  It's  no  use  taking  it  that  away,"  he  said.  "  Even  if 
it  is  true,  this  Kennedy  Poteet  is  dead." 

"Yes  he's  dead  —  more's  the  pity,"  said  the  girl. 
"  But  men  shall  know  him  for  what  he  was.  Ay,  and 
if  there's  any  belonging  to  him  left  here  in  Big  Creek, 
they  shall  bear  the  punishment." 

The  girl's  voice  was  low,  but  the  passion  in  it  thrilled 
through  the  air  and  through  the  heart  of  the  listener. 
He  turned  upon  her  in  surprise. 

"Why,  Naomi!"  he  said. 

"Would  you  leave  his  death  unavenged  ? "  she  asked 
sharply. 

"  I  wouldn't  avenge  it  on  the  innocent,"  he  said. 

"  Innocent !  "  The  scorn  in  her  tone  spoke  for  itself. 
" Son  or  daughter  of  a  murderer  is  like  to  be  innocent" 

"  We  don't  know  yet  that  this  Poteet  was  a  mur- 
derer," said  Dalbert,  thoughtfully.  "I  don't  want  to 
believe  it.  And  it's  not  certain.  Our  friend  was  too 
hot  to  be  reliable." 

"  We  shall  se-e,"  replied  Naomi ;  and  they  rode  on  in 
silence. 

Out  upon  the  valley  road,  through  the  village,  and 
beyond  it,  to  where  the  houses,  which  were  never  thick, 
grew  scattered,  they  rode  without  speaking,  except  in 
answer  to  greetings.  Men  and  women  came  to  their 
doors  to  look  after  the  pair. 

"A  tol'rable  pretty  man  and  woman,"  was  the  gen- 
eral comment ;  and  "  Whar  be  they  a-goin'  ?  "  the  com- 
mon question. 


io8  VISITING   THE    SIN 

"  Follow  the  valley  road  till  you  come  to  the  branch," 
had  been  the  directions  given  by  the  mill  owner. 

"Where  is  the  branch?"  asked  Dalbert,  when  the 
houses  grew  far  between. 

His  sister  came  back  to  the  present  with  a  visible 
effort. 

"  Yonder  is  water,"  she  said. 

They  crossed  it  just  where  an  old  house,  large  enough 
to  be  noticeable  among  its  fellows,  stood  in  a  hollow,  its 
long  piazza  shaded  by  apple  trees,  its  broad  front  pre- 
senting a  respectable  and  not  unattractive  face  to  the 
world. 

"  We  turn  off  here,  if  we  are  to  follow  the  branch," 
said  Dalbert. 

It  was  a  genuine  mountain  road  into  which  they 
passed,  steep,  rocky,  and  shut  in, —  a  bit  of  life  all  to 
itself.  They  were  mountain  boy  and  girl,  and  they 
thought  nothing  of  taking  to  the  stream  for  a  path. 
For  some  distance  there  was  no  other,  except  upon  the 
hillside ;  and  that,  from  its  nature,  was  more  suitable 
for  pedestrians.  Right  before  them,  built  under  an 
overshading  bank  steep  enough  to  make  a  respectable 
hill,  with  the  road  running  above,  and  the  opposite  ridge 
shutting  it  and  the  "  branch  "  in  like  a  wall,  was  the  mill. 

"  Good  evening.  I  reckon  I'm  speaking  to  my  new 
superintendent  —  or  superintendents." 

There  was  a  laugh  in  the  tone  of  the  voice. 

They  had  been  so  busy  looking  at  the  mill  that 
neither  Dalbert  nor  Naomi  had  seen  the  figure  upon  the 
road  above.  Now  the  eyes  of  both  turned  upward. 

A  merry,  handsome  face  looked  down  at  them  —  the 
face  of  the  mill  owner,  or  rather  of  the  son  of  the  mill 
owner,  though  the  distinction  is  unnecessary.  The 
speaker  was  practically  the  owner  of  the  building  before 
them.  Shorter  and  squarer  built  than  Dalbert,  he 
looked  but  a  year  or  two  older. 


VISITING   THE    SIN  109 

"You  are  speaking  to  Dalbert  Mozingo,"  was  the 
answer. 

"  Ah !  I  thought  so.  I'm  Will  Hollingsworth.  I've 
been  looking  for  my  superintendent  since  yesterday  — 
but  I've  got  more  than  I  looked  for." 

The  last  words  were  spoken  reflectively.  His  eyes 
were  fixed  on  Naomi. 

"My  sister  rode  through  with  me,"  said  Dalbert,  a 
little  stiffly.  "We  are  in  the  habit  of  keeping  house 
together." 

"  Lucky  fellow,"  replied  the  young  man,  with  a  smile 
that  was  not  meant  for  Dalbert.  "  Won't  you  get  off 
that  animal's  back  and  come  in  and  see  the  mill  ?  You 
must  be  powerful  tired  if  you've  come  from  beyond 
jellico  to-day." 

The  invitation  was  not  intended  for  the  new  superin- 
tendent, though  that  young  man  chose  to  accept  it  as 
offered  to  himself. 

"  Yes,  I'll  come  in  and  look,"  he  said.  "  The  sooner 
I  get  to  work,  the  better,  after  I  have  seen  my  sister  to 
some  safe  resting-place." 

"Oh,  you  can  come  or  stay,  just  as  you  like,"  said 
the  mill  owner,  lightly.  "  It  won't  hurt  you  to  sit  a  bit 
longer  astride  a  horse's  bones.  I  wasn't  fretting  about 
you,  but  ladies  are  different.  Won't  you  alight  ? " 

He  came  down  the  bank  headlong,  and  was  drawing 
near  to  assist  Naomi.  Her  foot  touched  the  ground  as 
he  reached  her. 

"  Thank  you,  we  have  not  come  far  to-day,"  she  said. 
"  You  need  not  trouble  about  Duke.  He'll  stand." 

They  went  into  the  mill  together. 

The  mill  owner  was  very  thorough  in  his  exhibition 
of  the  machinery.  He  led  the  way  from  one  part  of  the 
building  to  another  in  leisurely  fashion,  taking  frequent 
occasion  to  look  back  into  the  face  of  his  superintend- 
ent's sister. 


I  io  VISITING   THE    SIN 

"  I'm  glad  you  came  here  first,"  he  said,  when  he 
could  find  no  further  excuse  for  lingering ;  and  again  his 
words  were  not  meant  for  his  new  superintendent.  "  It 
was  quite  the  right  thing ;  for  since  you  belong  to  Dal- 
bert,  and  Dalbert  belongs  to  the  mill,  it's  not  hard  to 
establish  that  you  belong  to  the  mill,  too." 

Naomi  smiled. 

"  It's  not  powerful  hard  to  make  a  claim,"  she  said. 

To  all  appearance  the  mill  owner  found  that  smile 
sufficient  compensation  for  his  trouble.  He  went  back 
into  the  mill  with  a  light  step,  and  was  observed  to  be 
unusually  abstracted  at  intervals  during  the  rest  of  the 
day. 


VISITING   THE    SIN  in 


CHAPTER  VIII 

"T"   TAINT  that   gospel   truth?      Hain't   that   jist 

I — I  what  my  old  man  said  ? " 

JL  JLThe  speaker  shifted  one  lean  elbow  from  po- 
sition on  her  knee,  and  vigorously  nudged  her  nearest 
neighbour.  The  flame,  dancing  up  into  the  waning 
daylight,  threw  a  weird  glow  on  the  wizened  old  face 
poked  forward  towards  it ;  and  a  rook  in  a  tree  overhead 
suddenly  uttered  a  solemn  caw.  The  elbow  came  into 
position  again,  and  the  wrinkled  hand  took  a  fresh  grip 
on  the  twist  of  home-cured  tobacco  held  in  readiness  to 
replenish  the  pipe  that  the  lips  grasped  firmly. 

Nearly  a  score  of  grey  heads  nodded  assent  to  the 
proposition,  and  Big  Creek  winked  knowingly  from  be- 
tween its  low  banks.  Big  Creek  was  full  of  vagaries 
to-night.  The  stream  twinkled  and  winked  and  tossed 
back  the  red  glow  of  the  fires,  and  then  fled  coyly  to  the 
deep  darkness  of  some  shadowed  pool  to  rest  and  grow 
decorous  again.  A  few  hundred  yards  back  it  lay  still 
and  dark  in  a  place  where  rock  ledges  on  either  side 
forced  it  into  limits  too  strait  for  mirth.  Cold  and 
clear  and  free  from  all  quips  and  quirks,  it  slid  noise- 
lessly past  the  perpendicular  faces  of  its  jailers  in  a 
grand,  unruffled  curve,  and  then,  freed  from  control, 
flowed  out  gleefully  to  grassy  stretches,  and  took  to 
wild  ways  as  it  reddened  and  flashed  and  flirted  with 
the  light  of  half  a  dozen  fires  kindled  along  its  banks, 
chattering  and  gurgling  with  laughter  at  the  grotesque 
shadows  it  caught  on  its  bosom. 

Big  Creek  had  known  nothing  of  loneliness  in  this 
part  of  its  course  to-day ;  for  a  Baptist  "  Association  " 


H2  VISITING   THE    SIN 

was  being  held,  and  men  and  women  from  all  the 
country  round  had  come  together  in  its  neighbourhood. 
The  stream  gleamed  and  rioted  like  a  young  thing  to- 
night. It  was  hardly  the  influence  of  association  that 
made  it  send  up  youthful  flashes  into  the  lessening  day- 
light, for  the  figures  that  moved  on  its  banks  had  long 
ago  lost  the  elasticity  of  youth.  The  eyes  that  peered 
into  its  waters  were  a  little  dim  with  age — well-spec- 
tacled, though,  and  sharp-sighted  at  close  quarters. 
They  were  acting  at  close  quarters  to-night,  staring  into 
the  fire  or  into  their  neighbours'  faces.  Weather- 
beaten,  time-graven  faces  were  those  on  which  the  fire- 
light gleamed.  Wrinkles  were  plentiful,  carved  by  the 
hard  hand  of  character  fully  as  often  as  by  the  relent- 
less finger  of  time.  Those  old  men  in  long,  undyed 
jeans  coats  of  the  scissor-t ailed  pattern  had  a  past  —  and 
it  was  a  long  one.  It  belonged  to  the  day  of  the  white- 
haired,  spectacled  women  in  homespun,  who  sat  elbow 
to  elbow  with  their  contemporaries  of  the  scissor-tailed 
coats,  and  smoked  their  pipes  around  the  fires  in  peace 
and  amity,  while  the  daylight  waned,  and  a  few  belated 
rooks  cawed  in  unsettled  fashion  in  a  near-by  tree,  and 
Big  Creek  laughed  in  the  faces  of  the  talkers. 

Among  the  company  there  were  undoubtedly  mouths 
that  had  not  yet  learned  to  drop  into  deep  creases  of 
wisdom ;  but  they  were  babbling  youthful  talk  back 
among  the  trees,  where  the  shadows  were  more  at  home 
than  the  lights.  The  places  of  honour  around  the  fires 
were  filled  by  men  and  women  well  seasoned  with  age, 
old  residents  who  knew  the  traditions  of  the  hillsides, 
and  could  speak  with  weight  and  authority.  Not  an  old 
man  or  woman  —  save  one  —  within  thirty  miles  but 
had  come  to  the  "  Association  "  to  listen  to  the  sermons 
and  to  talk  with  old  friends  over  old  times  and  old 
beliefs.  For  the  gathering  was  of  a  religious  character, 
and  Big  Creek  valley  was  staunch  for  religion  and  for 
the  old  "  hard-shell  "  Baptist  faith. 


VISITING   THE    SIN  113 

They  failed  to  find  the  time  long  as  they  waited  be- 
tween the  sermons  for  the  coming  of  some  minister  who 
may  have  had  to  ride  a  hundred  miles  for  the  privilege 
of  expounding  to  them  the  old-time  Baptist  doctrine. 
They  found  plenty  to  talk  about  around  the  glowing  em- 
bers of  the  fires  lighted  on  the  shores  of  the  creek. 
There  was  no  fear  of  failing  interest.  Deep-set  eyes 
stared  through  their  spectacles  into  the  fires,  and  old 
faces  lighted  and  grew  eager,  as  weird  stories  of  witches 
and  witchcraft  fell  on  ears  long  accustomed  to  such 
recitals.  With  elbows  squared  on  knees  and  heads 
bent  forward,  those  veteran  story-tellers  listened,  nod- 
ding grave  assent  to  every  proposition.  As  the  daylight 
failed,  a  score  of  tiny  points  of  light  gave  glowing  evi- 
dence of  pipes  held  lovingly  between  clinging  lips. 

"  We-all  know  what  witches  and  wizards  is,  and  he 
hain't  much  less  'n  a  born  fool  that  contrairies  'em,"  de- 
clared the  speaker  of  the  moment. 

"  That's  plumb  true." 

"  That's  gospel  truth,  hain't  hit  ?  " 

"That's  jist  what  I  say." 

"  Hit  costs  a  sight  more  to  contrairy  'em  than  to  give 
'em  what  they're  atter,"  continued  the  speaker.  "  Thar 
is  men  so  powerful  determined  though  that  they're 
plumb  blind.  Ever  hear  tell  abaout  John  Powell's 
horse?" 

One  or  two  heads  nodded  sagely,  but  the  rest  remained 
non-committal. 

"Hit  was  aout  beyond  Hickory  Creek,"  pursued  the 
speaker,  "  and  hit  happened  a  right  smart  while  ago.  I 
was  nothin'  but  a  little  toad  when  John  Powell  died. 
Thar  was  a  woman  livin'  aout  thar  named  Emme/zW 
Ark.  She  had  a  sister  called  Eva/me.  ILva./tne  was  a 
good-sensed  woman,  so  I've  beared,  but  Emme/^, — 
thar,  hit  hain't  no  good  denyin'  that  Emme/m*  was  quar- 
turned,  rarl  quar-turned.  She'd  come  along  and  look 


114  VISITING   THE    SIN 

with  them  little  black  eyes  o'  hern  right  in  at  a  door, 
and  they'd  hear  her  mutter  as  she  passed,  'Thar '11  be 
trouble  in  this  house  to-day ' ;  and  sure  as  noontide  follers 
atter  mornin,'  afore  the  sun  sot  thar  would  be." 

Grey  heads  nodded,  and  white  smoke  was  puffed  re- 
flectively towards  the  fire. 

"  Thar  was  some  that  hadn't  no  likin*  for  Emme/zV^," 
continued  the  narrator.  "They  useter  shet  their 
doors  when  they  seed  her  comin'.  John  Powell  was 
that  away.  He'd  never  hev  her  in  his  house.  He'd 
drive  her  off  sometimes.  Hit  hain't  a  lucky  thing  to 
du.  Hit  useter  wasn't,  and  hit  hain't  now." 

"  Hain't  that  gospel  truth  ?  " 

«  Hain't  that  so  ? " 

" Hain't  that  good-sensed  talk?"  commented  the 
hearers. 

"  Hit  was  a  day  in  March,  if  I  hain't  aout  in  my 
reckoning' '  the  old  man  went  on  ;  "  and  John  was  a-ridin' 
a  black  horse  o'  hisn  that  he  sot  a  sight  o'  store  by. 
Hit  was  a  powerful  windy  day,  and  he  was  a-ridin'  slow, 
when  all  of  a  suddent  he  saw  TLmme/me  Ark  a-goin'  on 
ahead  of  him.  She'd  done  got  by  him  without  his 
seein'  her,  for  thar  warn't  no  place  whar  she  could  'a 
turned  inter  the  road  without  passin'  him.  As  I  was 
sayin',  thar  was  a  powerful  wind  blowin'  that  day,  and 
hit  was  blowin'  from  plumb  ahead  of  John.  Well,  he 
rode  on,  and  Emme/zVz^  she  went  faster  'n  him.  When 
she'd  got  a  right  smart  away,  he  beared  her  mutter, 
jist  as  she  useter  mutter  when  she  come  past  his  door, 
'  You  won't  never  git  no  more  good  o'  that  horse,  John 
Powell!'  She  never  spoke  up  a  mite.  She  jist  mut- 
tered hit  low  and  angry-like.  John  beared  hit,  though. 
Hit  come  to  him  on  the  wind  as  plain  as  if  Emmetine 
was  standin'  thar  by  his  side.  Hit  was  powerful  funny, 
but  hit  was  so." 

"I  hain't  doubt  in'   hit.     Hit's    strange   enough,  but 


VISITING   THE    SIN  115 

hit's  gospel  truth.  I've  heared  my  dad  tell  abaout  hit 
years  ago,  and  hit's  sure  as  the  grave." 

The  words  came  creaking  out  in  hoarse,  raspy  tones, 
as  if  the  voice  that  uttered  them  had  grown  rusty  with 
age. 

Heads  wagged  sagely  at  this  corroboration  of  the 
story,  and  twenty  lips  ceased  puffing  smoke  as  the  bot- 
toms of  twenty  pipes  were  reached. 

"I  hain't  denyin'  that  John  was  scart  some,"  pro- 
ceeded the  story-teller.  "  Hit  stands  to  reason  he  was." 

"  That's  powerful  true." 

"  Hit  does,  and  that's  gospel  truth." 

Twenty  pairs  of  hands  were  busy  with  twists  of  to- 
bacco, and  twenty  pipes  were  emptied  of  their  ashes. 

"John  rid  on  to  whar  he  was  goin',"  resumed  the 
speaker;  "but  he  hadn't  no  heart  to  stay.  He  thought 
a  powerful  sight  o*  that  black  horse,  and  he  was  plumb 
sure  Emme/zV^  hadn't  spoke  for  nothin'.  And  no 
more  she  hadn't.  He  rid  that  horse  home ;  and,  if  you'll 
believe  hit," — here  the  speaker  leaned  forward,  scooped 
up  a  hot  coal  from  the  fire,  and  deftly  lighted  the  fresh 
tobacco, —  "  that  animal  wouldn't  touch  a  mite  o'  food, 
not  to  save  his  life." 

Nineteen  hands  reached  forward  to  the  glowing 
embers,  and  nineteen  pairs  of  lips  puffed  silently ;  then 
twenty  stars  shone  again  in  the  darkness,  and  the 
listeners  found  their  voices. 

"Thar  hain't  nary  doubt  of  hit." 

"  Hit's  jist  like  my  old  man  told,  hain't  hit  ? " 

"Hit's  a  sight  how  sich  things  happen,  but  they  du." 

"  The  horse  was  sick  for  a  mighty  long  spell,"  con- 
tinued the  old  man,  "  and  atter  hit  got  well  hit  was  that 
contrairy  that  John  didn't  know  which  away  to  turn. 
He  done  tried  everything  he  knew,  but  he  never  got  no 
more  good  o'  that  black  horse." 

"  I  hain't  doubtin*  hit  a  bit,"  responded  a  little  old 


u6  VISITING   THE    SIN 

woman  with  a  small  shrunken  face  entirely  dominated 
by  the  eyes.  "Thar's  things  I've  seed  myself  that's 
plumb  took  my  breath  away.  Lor,  thar's  the  match  o' 
that  Emme/zW  Ark  left  in  more  'n  one  place  yit." 

"  That's  so." 

"Thar  hain't  no  doubt  of  hit." 

"  Hit  wouldn't  be  powerful  fur  you'd  hev  to  go  to 
find  one" 

A  dozen  heads  nodded  significantly  towards  the  moun- 
tains that  lay  over  by  the  Gap,  and  for  a  moment 
silence  fell  on  the  group.  It  is  safe  to  say  that  the 
thoughts  of  all  the  members  of  the  party  had  travelled 
in  one  direction. 

"  No,  I  hain't  sayin'  thar's  ary  thing  that  sort  cain't 
du  when  they're  sot  on  hit,"  continued  the  little  old 
woman.  "  But  hit's  a  si-ight  how  some  people  are  scart 
of  'em.  Lor,  hit  hain't  so  plumb  sure  thar  hain't  ways 
o'  stoppin'  'em." 

A  dozen  elbows  made  comment  in  the  shape  of  vigor- 
ous nudges. 

"Thar  was  a  man  up  to  Laurel  Fork  that  I  heared 
my  mam  tell  abaout,"  the  little  old  woman  went  on, 
"  and  he  and  his  woman  was  the  determindest  pair  the 
sun  ever  sot  eyes  on.  What  he  started  aout  to  du  was 
plumb  sure  to  be  done,  and  what  she  aimed  at  she  was 
never  knowed  to  miss." 

"  We-ell !     Hear  that  now  ! " 

Elbows  moved  eloquently,  and  the  old  woman  pro- 
ceeded. 

"  Thar  warn't  no  wizard  nor  witch  a  match  for  the-em. 
Not  that  they  was  let  alone.  Thar  was  plenty  that  had 
a  grudge  agin'  'em.  Thar  mostly  is,  when  folks  is  pretty 
prosperous.  Thar  hain't  never  no  lack  of  ill  wishers 
when  a  body's  gittin'  up  in  the  world." 

"  Hain't  that  gospel  truth  ? " 

"Hain't  that  so?" 


VISITING   THE    SIN  117 

"  Hain't  that  powerful  sure  ?  " 

Nudging  became  energetic. 

"Thar  came  a  time,"  continued  the  speaker,  "when 
the  cow  they  was  dependin'  on  failed  'em  all  at  onct. 
They  didn't  git  more  'n  a  quart  at  a  milkin',  and  she'd 
been  a  givin'  nigh  upon  a  bucketful  twice  a  day.  They 
said  nary  word  the  fust  time  hit  happened,  but  the 
next"— 

She  stopped  impressively,  and  the  elbows  moved. 

"  When  hit  come  home  to  that  man  that  his  cow  was 
spelt,"  she  resumed,  "thar  was  a  powerful  time.  Him 
and  his  woman  was  plumb  put  aout.  '  I  reckon  I  know 
who's  to  blame  for  hit/  he  says.  *  I'll  fix  hi-im  afore  he's 
a  day  older.'  So  he  took  the  little  bitty  drap  o'  milk 
she'd  give,  and  went  inter  the  house.  *  Thar's  ways  o* 
fixin'  hi-im,'  says  he." 

"  And  he  was  ri-ight.  That's  gospel  truth,"  broke  in 
a  listener.  "Thar  is  ways." 

"I  reckon,"  replied  the  narrator.  "He  warn't  a 
plumb  fool.  <  What  '11  you  du  ? '  asked  his  woman.  *  I'll 
shoot  him,'  he  says,  for  he  was  powerful  worked  up. 
'But  you  hain't  sure  which  on  'em  hit  is,'  she  says. 
'  Thar's  more  'n  one  around  here  would  powerful  like  to 
he'p  us  on  to  sorrer.'  <  Then  I'll  find  aout,'  says  he,  loud 
and  angry.  '  /'//  draw  him  here,  let  him  come  from  this 
away  or  that  away.'  '  I  hain't  a-blamin'  ye,'  says  his 
woman  ;  and  with  that  he  tuk  the  milk  " — 

"  That  you,  Abner  Poteet  ?  Howdy  !  Coin'  to  wait 
for  the  preachin '  ? " 

The  interruption  came  from  the  oldest  man  in  the 
company.  He  turned  to  greet  a  new-comer. 

"  Howdy.  Yes,  I  reckon  I  will.  Hain't  the  preacher 
come  along  yit  ? " 

The  speaker,  a  broad-shouldered,  broad-chested  man 
of  thirty  or  thereabouts,  stopped  where  the  firelight 
shone  full  on  his  face.  His  lips  smiled  tentatively,  as  if 
the  smile  were  not  fully  assured  of  its  welcome. 


n8  VISITING   THE    SIN 

"  Come  and  set  a  bit,' '  invited  the  old  man  who  had 
interrupted  the  story.  "  He'll  likely  be  here  afore  long." 

"Well,  I  hain't  sure  that  I  won't.  Hit's  powerful 
lonesome  aout  thar  in  the  dark." 

The  new-comer  accommodated  himself  with  a  seat  on 
the  grass. 

"  We're  a-settin'  and  talkin'  a  bit,"  explained  the  old 
man.  "  We  had  a  check  o'  supper  awhile  ago,  and  now 
we're  fillin'  up  the  time  till  preachin'.  We  done  found 
the  fire  the  best  company." 

"  Hit  is  that,"  replied  the  younger  man. 

"  You'd  oughter  brought  a  horse-shoe  along,  Ab,  to 
keep  off  the  witches,"  said  another  of  the  old  men. 
"  Ab  hain't  powerful  fond  o'  witches,"  he  added. 

"No,  I  hain't,"  said  the  younger  man.  "I  hain't  no 
reason  to  be,  and  no  more  hain't  nobody.  Thar  hain't 
no  call  to  make  jokes  abaout  'em.  They  du  a  sight  o' 
mischief,  and  the  trouble  they  make  hain't  no  joke." 

"That's  powerful  true.  That's  jist  what  I  was  a- 
sayin',"  continued  the  little  old  woman,  eager  to  take  up 
the  thread  of  her  story.  "That  man  and  his  woman 
that  I  was  a-tellin'  abaout  thought  jist  as  you  du.  Hit 
warn't  no  joke  to  them,  losin'  the  milk  o'  their  best  cow. 
« I'll  fix  him;  says  he ;  and  with  that  he  put  the  drap  o' 
milk  she'd  give  right  into  a  pot,  and  hung  hit  plumb 
over  the  fire.  '  Go  and  git  some  holly  brush/  says  he, 
and  his  woman  got  hit.  And  them  two  stood  and 
whipped  that  milk  with  the  holly  brush  till  they'd 
whipped  hit  clar  outer  the  pot,  and  when  hit  was  all 
gone  he  says,  'Thar,  now  we'll  see  who's  the  witch.'  " 

"That's  so.  That's  gospel  truth,  hain't  hit?"  inter- 
rupted another  old  woman.  "  Hit's  a  gue-ude  way  to  find 
aout,  and  I  don't  know  as  thar's  a  better." 

"Well,"  resumed  the  story-teller,  "they  waited. 
And  hit  warn't  long  afore  in  come  an  old  man  that  was 
neighbour  to  'em.  He  looked  all  doubled  up  and  tol'ra- 


VISITING   THE    SIN  119 

ble  mis'rable,  and,  when  the  woman  seed  him,  she 
hitched  her  husband.  '  See  that  ? '  says  she.  And  he 
hitched  her  back,  and  'Keep  still,  don't  say  a  word/ 
says  he.  And  the  man  come  in,  and  drapped  on  a  seat. 
He  was  all  done  aout,  he  was  that  mis'rable  and  suf- 
ferin'.  '  I  want  to  borrer  your  nag  and  the  meal-sack,' 
says  he." 

"Ah!" 

"  Hear  that ! " 

"We-ellnow!" 

The  comments  over,  the  old  woman  resumed. 

"'Git  him  the  meal-sack,'  says  the  man,  and  his 
woman  got  up,  and  give  hit  to  him.  They  seed  him 
ride  away,  all  doubled  up  and  sufferin'.  '  Thar,'  says  the 
man,  'I  knowed  hit  was  hi-im.'  'We've  done  fixed 
him,'  says  his  woman.  '  He  cain't  du  us  no  more  harm 
now  he's  done  borrered  ary  thing  of  ourn.  Thar  '11  be 
plenty  o'  milk  to-night.'  And  thar  was,"  continued  the 
old  woman.  "Hit  warn't  more  'n  an  hour  afore  they 
seed  that  thar  neighbour  come  ridin'  back,  whistlin'  and 
comfortable.  'You  thought  you'd  done  a  fine  thing 
makin'  me  borrer  your  nag  and  your  meal-sack,'  he 
says ;  but  he  looked  plumb  foolish  when  he  said  hit. 
'  You  let  my  cows  alone  atter  this,  or  I'll  du  somethin' 
worse,'  says  the  man,  and  he  spoke  gospel  truth." 

"That's  so." 

"  That's  powerful  true." 

"He  could  'a  done  hit,"  came  the  response  from  dif- 
ferent lips. 

"  Yes,  he  could  'a  done  hit ;  and  he  knowed  hit.  Him 
and  his  woman  "  — 

"  Look  thar  !     Hain't  that  the  preacher  ? " 

The  eyes  of  the  little  woman  rolled  round  in  the  di- 
rection indicated. 

"  Hit's  tol'rable  plain  that  hit  is,"  she  said. 

"  Then  we'll  be  gittin'  ur-rp.  Thar  won't  be  a  sight 
more  time  afore  the  preachin'." 


120  VISITING   THE    SIN 

Limbs  grown  a  little  stiffer  than  usual  from  long  sit- 
ting stretched  themselves,  and  their  owners  struggled 
to  their  feet.  The  men  stuffed  their  pipes  into  their 
pockets,  and  the  women  deposited  theirs  in  little  bags 
hanging  upon  their  arms. 

"Here,  granny,  here's  yer  poke.  Better  be  toFrable 
quick  gittin'  yer  pipe  put  away  in  hit.  We'll  set  off  when 
you're  ready.  Thar  hain't  goin'  to  be  near  enough 
rue-ume  in  thar  for  us-all." 

The  trembling  fingers  of  the  oldest  woman  of  the 
party  clutched  the  little  bag  held  towards  her,  and  feebly 
dropped  pipe  and  tobacco  therein. 

"  Yes,  we'll  be  a-goin',"  she  said,  fumbling  at  the 
strings.  "  I'd  be  awful  proud  to  hear  the  preachin'." 

She  hung  the  "poke"  on  her  arm,  and  started  for  the 
nearest  house.  It  was  not  large  enough  to  accommo- 
date a  quarter  of  the  company  assembled.  Before 
many  minutes  its  rooms  were  packed  with  old  men  and 
women  and  a  sprinkling  of  the  younger  element.  Of 
this  latter  there  was  a  larger  representation  outside. 

Abner  Poteet  was  one  of  those  who  found  a  seat 
within  the  house.  He  took  up  a  position  near  a  win- 
dow, where  he  could  see  the  faces  massed  close  to  the 
opening.  It  was  no  new  thing  to  see  Abner  at  a 
preaching.  There  was  not  a  sermon  that  had  been 
preached  in  Big  Creek  Gap  for  years  that  Abner  Poteet 
had  not  listened  to, —  listened  to,  not  simply  attended. 
The  deep-set,  honest  eyes  under  Abner 's  shaggy  eye- 
brows had  a  trick  of  fastening  themselves  on  the  preach- 
er's lips  and  remaining  immovable.  It  would  have  been 
possible,  by  watching  those  eyes,  for  a  deaf  man  to  in- 
form himself  of  the  trend  of  the  sermon.  Wistful  and 
questioning  when  dogmatic  teaching  fell  from  the 
preacher's  lips,  they  grew  sad  and  solemn  under  mes- 
sages of  warning  ;  and  when  the  speaker  waxed  eloquent 
in  denunciation,  the  eyes  took  to  themselves  an  expres- 


VISITING   THE   SIN  121 

sion  of  trembling  fear.  They  had  been  known  to 
darken  with  horror  under  the  vivid  pictures  of  future 
wrath  presented  by  some  especially  powerful  speaker, 
and  to  melt  with  tenderness  when  a  rare  message  of 
peace  dropped  from  the  lips  of  a  more  gentle  herald  of 
truth. 

To-night  they  wandered  a  little,  but  that  was  before 
the  preaching  began.  The  wandering  must  have  been 
caused  by  the  proximity  of  the  window,  for  it  was  in 
that  direction  they  turned.  Or  perhaps  it  was  not  so 
much  the  window  that  was  to  blame  as  the  heads  that 
could  be  seen  close  to  it,  clustered  outside  in  the  light 
that  streamed  dimly  through  the  open  space.  A  dozen 
lanterns  or  more,  and  two  or  three  lamps,  illumined  the 
interior,  but  outside  the  light  shone  faintly,  putting  the 
faces  in  half  shadow. 

Was  it  the  old  face  or  the  young  one,  in  a  pair  so 
close  together  that  a  glance  at  one  necessarily  included 
the  other,  that  drew  the  eyes  of  Abner  Poteet  from  the 
lighted  room  to  the  darker  exterior,  or  were  the  faces  in 
no  way  responsible,  but  the  look  one  of  mere  curiosity 
to  ascertain  how  many  people  were  gathering  about  the 
building  ?  Any  man  might  have  been  excused  for  turn- 
ing his  head  to  look  again  at  those  faces,  though  one 
was  the  face  of  an  elderly  woman.  A  little,  sinewy 
figure,  with  the  grace  of  perfect  proportion,  was  the 
foundation  for  a  small,  well-poised  head  that  held  itself 
fearlessly.  Its  owner  had  seen  some  fifty  years  of  life, 
but,  to  all  appearance,  she  had  seen  therein  nothing  to 
daunt  her  or  to  bring  fear  to  those  bright  black  eyes 
that  looked  mirthfully  or  wrathfully  out  on  the  world,  as 
the  case  might  be,  but  never  looked  helplessly  or  hope- 
lessly thereat.  The  small,  gypsy-like  face  wore  the  rich, 
dark  tint  more  often  seen  in  real  southern  climes,  and 
the  mouth,  that  looked  as  if  fashioned  solely  for  pur- 
poses of  beauty,  but  that  could  open  in  forcible  speech 


122  VISITING   THE    SIN 

on  occasion,  was  warm  with  the  hue  of  perfect  health. 
It  was  hardly  a  wonder  that  Abner  Poteet  looked  more 
than  once  at  that  face  —  or  was  it  at  the  one  held  near, 
but  a  full  head  above  ?  The  same  dark  rich  tint,  the 
same  brightness  of  colouring,  the  same  perfection  of 
form,  were  prominent  in  that  younger  face ;  but,  though 
this  lacked  nothing  in  sprightliness,  it  gained  something 
in  stateliness.  A  veritable  gypsy  queen  was  this  girl 
who  stood  by  her  mother's  side,  and  looked  in  at  the 
window  when  the  preaching  was  about  to  begin. 

An  expression  akin  to  contentment  settled  on  Abner's 
face  as  he  saw  the  two  pressed  closer  to  the  window  by 
the  action  of  the  crowd  beyond.  Was  he  blessing  the 
fate  that  made  it  not  quite  easy  for  the  pair  to  move 
away  until  the  sermon  was  over  ? 

There  would  in  any  case  have  been  little  fear.  The 
preacher  that  night  was  a  "  powerful  eloquent  man,  "  a 
light  in  the  community  where  his  name  never  failed  to 
draw  a  crowd  of  listeners.  A  good,  strong-voiced,  strong- 
bodied,  strong-minded  man  was  this  preacher  of  to-night, 
one  who  felt  that  he  knew  well  the  ways  of  the  Governor 
of  this  world,  and  that  those  ways  —  as  he  knew  them — 
were  right.  He  had  as  little  doubt  of  his  knowledge  as 
he  had  of  the  wisdom  of  the  ways  that  to  him  were  very 
far  from  being  "past  finding  out."  A  whole-souled, 
determined  man,  whose  preaching  was  calculated  to  dis- 
turb sinners  and  strengthen  saints, —  if  they  were  not 
timorous  saints,  and  were  quite  sure  of  their  sainthood, 
—  was  this  chosen  speaker.  And,  before  he  had  con- 
cluded his  sermon,  he  felt  that  he  had  had  a  good  time, 
and  that  his  words  had  not  fallen  short  of  their  designed 
effect. 

He  would  have  been  still  more  sure,  had  he  looked 
into  the  eyes  of  Abner  Poteet.  They  were  placid  and 
satisfied  —  hopeful  even  —  when  he  gave  out  his  text. 
Then  there  came  upon  them  a  darkness  as  sudden  as 


VISITING   THE    SIN  123 

the  eclipse  of  the  sunlight  when  the  sky  is  over-swept  by 
a  thunder-cloud  driven  before  a  strong  wind. 

"  Visiting  the  sins  of  the  fathers  upon  the  children, 
unto  the  third  and  fourth  generation  of  them  that  hate 
me." 

In  deep,  sonorous  tones  the  words  rolled  out  through 
the  crowded  rooms.  Old  men  and  women  settled  them- 
selves comfortably  to  listen ;  and  one  hearer,  and  only 
one,  gave  a  start  as  of  horror. 

"  The  sins  of  the  fathers  ! " 

Abner  Poteet  turned  from  the  speaker,  and  sent  one 
quick,  almost  imploring  glance  at  the  face  framed  in  the 
window  opening.  The  eyes  were  not  looking  his  way, 
and  he  turned  back  to  the  preacher. 

That  text  lost  no  force  in  the  hands  of  the  exhorter 
chosen  for  this  particular  evening.  He  intended  his 
sermon  as  a  warning,  and  he  meant  that  it  should  be 
profitable.  He  dealt  in  sorrow  and  doom,  in  the  fore- 
ordained punishment  of  the  children  of  evil  doers.  His 
thoughts  were  so  full  of  the  evil  doers  that  there  was  no 
room  left  in  them  for  the  children  —  doomed  to  the  visi- 
tation of  wrath.  He  spoke  of  sin ;  and  his  voice  rose  and 
rose  till  it  filled  the  room  and  overflowed  it,  and  went 
ringing  down  to  Big  Creek  itself,  grown  still  now,  and 
glimmering  with  but  a  faint,  sad  light  from  the  dying 
fires.  And  still  it  rose,  and  the  blackness  of  sin  grew 
more  apparent,  till  the  strength  of  the  preacher  —  long 
enduring  —  gave  out,  and  the  voice  broke  and  needed 
the  refreshment  of  the  water  placed  conveniently  near. 

The  speaker  would  have  been  more  than  ever  assured 
that  his  sermon  was  a  success  if  he  had  chanced  to  look 
into  one  pair  of  eyes,  fixed  as  if  in  fascination  upon  him. 
Shame  and  horror  mingled  there  with  hopeless  assent. 
The  listener  made  no  mental  protest.  His  eyes  acqui- 
esced in  the  proposition  of  the  exceeding  evil  of  sin,  and 
took  the  strong  accusations  of  the  preacher  home  as  if 
by  right. 


124  VISITING   THE    SIN 

But  when  the  speaker  came  to  the  second  half  of  his 
discourse,  and  turned  to  the  fate  of  the  children  of  evil 
doers,  an  expression  of  positive  fear  came  upon  the 
broad,  open  face  of  the  listener.  The  hand  that  lay 
upon  his  knee  shook.  Visited  on  the  children !  The 
justice  of  such  visitation  was  clear  enough  to  the  trem- 
bling heart  of  the  hearer,  as  clear  as  to  the  brain  of  the 
preacher,  where  the  doctrine  of  unmitigated  but  vicari- 
ously deserved  punishment  had  been  worked  out  in  bold, 
convincing  arguments.  Visited  on  the  children  !  Why 
not  —  except  that  the  preacher  showed  no  under  side  of 
love  and  tenderness  present  even  in  the  visitation  ? 

"What  will  you  bring  against  the  verdict ? "  cried  the 
speaker,  in  a  voice  that  would  have  brought  the  roof  off 
that  Big  Creek  cottage  if  the  wooden  pins  with  which  it 
was  secured  had  not  been  tied  firmly  in  beneath.  As  it 
was,  it  only  took  away  the  breath  of  the  speaker  and 
the  last  ray  of  hope  from  the  heart  of  a  hearer. 

"Nothing,"  whispered  that  heart,  in  patient  acqui- 
escence in  sorrow. 

"That's  powerful  convincing"  whispered  a  croaking 
voice,  as  an  old  man  leaned  forward  to  his  "  old  woman  " 
to  express  his  appreciation  of  the  sermon. 

She  nodded  assent,  and  the  room  became  expectantly 
silent  again.  The  preacher  was  ready  to  proceed. 

"To  the  third  and  fourth  generation." 

Abner  Poteet  started.  To  the  third  and  fourth  ? 
What  ?  Would  the  curse  not  stop  at  the  heart  that  felt 
it  weighing  down  within  itself,  heavy  enough  to  sink  all 
joy  and  bitter  enough  to  poison  all  good  ?  The  third 
and  fourth  generation  ?  Abner  Poteet  cast  one  long, 
despairing  glance  at  that  brightly  tinted  face  by  the 
window. 

"Hit's  got  to  stop  right  here  —  that  visitin',"  he 
whispered.  "  She  hain't  goin'  to  share  hit,  nor  none 
that  would  be  hers.  The  third  and  fourth  generation  !  " 


VISITING   THE    SIN  125 

His  hand  went  up  and  wiped  drops  of  perspiration 
from  his  forehead  and  lips.  The  eloquence  of  the 
speaker  remained  unabated. 

"  Hain't  that  God  Almighty's  truth  ? "  asked  an  old 
woman  when  the  congregation  dispersed  ;  and  she  never 
doubted  that  it  was, —  and  the  whole  of  it. 

As  for  one  sore  heart,  it  had  no  courage  left  to  allow 
its  owner  to  seek,  even  for  a  moment,  the  presence  of 
the  girl  who  turned  away  from  the  window  and  was 
quickly  lost  in  the  darkness.  Abner  Poteet  went  home- 
ward alone,  shunning  the  groups  who  were  loudly  dis- 
cussing the  sermon  just  ended.  That  solitary  journey 
was  sure  proof  of  the  engrossment  of  his  thoughts. 
On  any  other  occasion  he  would  have  sought  the  com- 
pany of  one  of  the  parties  that  trooped  behind  a  glim- 
mering lantern  carried  by  some  traveller  of  forethought. 
To-night  he  avoided  them  all. 

Down  the  steep  rocky  road  that  led  past  the  new 
mill,  and  out  into  the  valley  road,  to  the  hollow,  where, 
backed  by  low  hills,  the  old  house  that  Naomi  had  no- 
ticed frowned  dark  and  solemn,  Abner  walked,  his 
thoughts  still  of  the  sermon. 

"  I  knowed  hit  afore.  Hit  hain't  as  if  hit  was  new," 
he  said,  and  there  were  none  to  see  that  in  the  darkness 
his  lips  trembled.  When  he  came  directly  opposite  the 
big,  silent  house,  from  the  windows  of  which  no  friendly 
light  looked  out,  he  stopped,  and  stood  staring  at  its 
dark  outline.  It  was  years  since  Abner  Poteet  had 
stood  before  that  house  without  the  comfortable  pres- 
ence of  daylight  to  reassure  him. 

"The  sins  of  the  fathers  !  "  he  whispered  ;  and  a  deep 
shudder  passed  through  his  frame.  His  hands  shook  as 
with  palsy. 

"  A  life  for  a  life  !  "  he  muttered,  after  a  long  silence. 
"  That  hain't  the  end  of  hit.  That's  only  in  this  world, 
and  man's  visitin'.  Thar's  more  'n  that.  Thar's  God's 


126  VISITING   THE    SIN 

visitin'.  Thar's  a  many  that  '11  be  shet  aout,  but  thar's 
a  special  visitin'  o'  wrath  on  them  that's  the  children  of 
evil  doers.  Thar's  a  singlin'  aout  from  among  the  rest 
to  visit  on  'em  the  evil  their  fathers  deserved.  Thar's 
their  own  sins,  and  their  fathers',  too." 

He  turned  away  with  one  last,  long,  shuddering  look 
at  the  dark  building  that  seemed  in  some  mysterious  way 
to  be  connected  with  the  sermon  of  the  evening. 

Still  along  the  valley  road,  but  away  from  instead  of 
towards  the  village  of  Big  Creek  Gap,  Abner  Poteet 
stumbled  in  the  darkness.  A  single  turn  brought  him 
in  sight  of  a  little  log  cabin  standing  back  from  the 
road.  He  pushed  open  a  gate,  latching  it  carefully  be- 
hind him,  and  walked  heavily  up  the  path.  No  light 
greeted  him  here,  any  more  than  at  the  larger  house  he 
had  just  left ;  but  he  did  not  shudder  as  he  stooped  to  fit 
the  key  in  the  old  wooden  lock.  A  faint  red  glow  from 
the  hearth  met  his  eye  as  he  came  within  the  room.  It 
brought  with  it  a  dim  sense  of  comfort  and  safety. 
Hastily  closing  the  door,  stepping  over  the  deeply 
burned  impression  of  a  horseshoe  on  the  threshold,  im- 
printed there  for  safety  against  the  wiles  of  the  witches, 
Abner  came  over  and  raked  the  embers  together.  Then 
he  reached  out,  and  took  a  handful  of  chips  from  a  box 
by  the  chimney  corner.  In  a  moment  a  bright  flame 
shot  up,  and  showed  the  clean,  bare  room,  empty  of 
everything  but  the  simplest  necessaries  of  existence. 

The  owner  of  the  dwelling  stood  and  looked  round  it, 
with  a  dazed  expression  on  his  face.  Gradually,  as  his 
eyes  fell  on  familiar  objects,  the  lines  softened.  He 
dragged  an  old  wooden  arm-chair  to  the  hearth,  and  sat 
down  on  it.  His  foot  touched  a  hot  horseshoe  kept  in 
the  embers  to  insure  the  safety  of  the  chickens  against 
hawks. 

"  They're  he'pless  things,  and  cain't  fight  with  a  hawk. 
We've  done  got  to  he'p  'em,"  Abner  had  said  when  he 


VISITING   THE   SIN 

put  the  cold  iron  on  the  hearth.  "  Thar's  nary  hawk 
can  swoop  down  on  'em  while  that's  thar.  Hit  may 
hover,  and  hover,  and  lueke  tol'rable  like  swoopin' ;  but 
hit  cain't  never  hurt  'em  while  the  horse-shoe's  warm  on 
the  hearth  inside." 

His  eyes  were  not  on  the  horse-shoe  to-night.  He 
had  forgotten  it  was  there.  His  thoughts  were  of  ward- 
ing off  evil ;  but  before  his  mind's  eye  was  a  beautiful 
girlish  face,  quivering  with  life.  He  looked  round  on 
the  room  and  its  furnishings. 

"  Hit  hain't  like  she's  got,  but  she  could  'a  made  hit 
'most  as  good  as  hern,"  he  said  wistfully.  "  I'd  'a 
built  another  rue-ume  or  two,  and  we-uns  could  'a  gone 
away  to  the  store  and  got  a  right  smart  o'  things  "  — 

His  voice  dropped  into  silence,  and  left  the  picture 
unfinished.  The  wistful  look  deepened,  and  became  one 
of  positive  pain. 

"  The  third  and  fourth  generation  ! "  he  said  at  last. 
"  Hit  '11  stop  afore  hit  gits  thar.  Thar  shain't  be  more  'n 
the  one  generation  to  bear  hit." 

He  dropped  his  head  on  his  hands,  and  the  room  was 
still  as  death. 


128  VISITING   THE    SIN 


CHAPTER   IX 

BIG  Creek  Gap  had  become  a  reality  to  the  son 
and  daughter  of  Dalbert  Mozingo  the  elder.  And 
the  mystery  of  the  past  had  resolved  itself  into  a 
wild,  horror-laden  suspicion,  that  took  hold  of  the  brother 
and  sister  and  refused  to  be  shaken  off.  Naomi  made 
no  effort  to  be  rid  of  it.  Strong  of  courage  and  of  pas- 
sion, the  girl's  heart  afforded  a  dangerous  resting-place 
for  hints  such  as  those  dropped  by  the  stranger  of  the 
Gap.  They  had  set  her  brain  and  soul  on  fire.  The 
spirit  of  the  mountains  in  their  fiercer  mood  was  strongly 
incorporated  with  the  gentler  phases  of  the  Southern 
character  in  this  maid  of  the  Kentucky  hills.  She  found 
in  her  heart  no  shrinking  from  a  knowledge  of  the  truth. 
Pity  for  the  fate  of  the  father  she  had  loved  with  all  the 
passion  of  a  child's  tenderness  was  so  mingled  with  the 
fire  of  fierce  wrath  against  his  murderer  that  its  pain 
was  scorched  out  of  recognition.  Her  heart  was  sore, 
but  it  was  as  much  with  anger  as  with  grief. 

Not  so  her  brother.  With  Dalbert  every  filial  feeling 
protested  against  this  solution  of  the  mystery.  It  had 
been  bad  enough  to  think  of  his  father  as  the  victim  of 
some  terrible  accident,  but  to  believe  that  he  died  thus  — 
He  recoiled  from  the  thought  with  horror.  He  would 
have  been  glad  to  shake  it  off,  to  believe  the  whole  story 
a  fabrication  of  the  old  man's  who  had  acted  as  guide 
through  the  pass.  Perhaps  he  would  have  succeeded 
but  for  his  sister.  She  said  little  on  the  subject  after 
the  first  day  of  their  arrival  at  Big  Creek.  But  he  knew 
she  had  not  forgotten. 

For  the  present  there  was  much  to  be  done  in  the 


VISITING   THE    SIN  129 

way  of  establishing  themselves  in  the  village.  The  mill 
owner  proved  a  zealous  assistant  in  the  matter  of  finding 
a  habitation  and  settling  his  new  superintendent  —  or 
rather  his  superintendent's  sister  —  therein.  His  good- 
humoured  laugh  rang  out  through  the  empty  house ;  and, 
when  the  household  goods  arrived,  he  turned  his  hand 
to  furnishing  with  a  readiness  of  resource  that  amused 
Naomi. 

"You  can  attend  to  the  mill,  Dal,"  he  would  say, 
with  amazing  coolness  dismissing  his  assistant  to  his 
duties.  "  You  understand  that  business  better  than  I 
do.  I'm  no  hand  at  machinery.  I'll  stay  with  your 
sister  here,  and  see  she  don't  get  lonesome." 

And  he  did  see.  Between  his  assistance  and  the 
amount  of  work  to  be  done,  Naomi  found  the  days  any- 
thing but  long.  The  life  at  Big  Creek  Gap  was  wider 
than  that  at  Cedar  Fork ;  and  the  mill  owner,  though 
comparatively  a  new-comer  himself,  could  give  much  in- 
formation regarding  it.  Already  Cedar  Fork  was  as- 
suming the  mistier  forms  of  the  past,  as  Big  Creek  and 
its  possible  tragedy  grew  fuller  and  clearer  in  Naomi's 
sight. 

In  Big  Creek  Gap  tragedy  was  surely  not  all  of  the 
past.  There  was  trace  of  it,  even  to-day,  in  the  wrin- 
kled, determined  face  pressed  close  to  the  window-pane  of 
Naomi's  kitchen.  For  a  moment  a  pair  of  old  eyes  and 
a  pair  of  young  ones  met.  Only  for  a  moment.  Then 
the  old  eyes  went  down  ;  and  the  figure  stooped  till  the 
hands,  with  long  claw-shaped  nails  that  had  been  un- 
trimmed  for  years,  scraped  the  ground  as  if  in  search  of 
roots.  Those  deep-set,  angry  eyes  had  looked  into  the 
girl's  face  before, —  looked  leisurely,  from  the  shelter  of  a 
great  rock  upon  the  other  side  of  Big  Creek  Gap.  They 
were  nearer  now,  and  the  gaze  was  of  necessity  more 
hurried.  There  was  nothing  but  the  window  between 
the  old  face  and  the  young  one,  and  that  would  not 


130  VISITING   THE    SIN 

intervene  long.  Naomi's  hand  was  already  on  the 
sash. 

"  Who  is  she,  and  what  does  she  want  ? "  she  asked, 
startled  by  the  gleam  of  those  fierce  eyes. 

Naomi  had  not  been  present  at  the  meetings  of  the 
Baptist  "  Association "  the  day  before,  or  those  eyes 
might  have  recalled  to  her  stories  of  witches  and  witch- 
craft. The  face  pressed  close  to  the  window  glass  was 
the  only  old  face  for  miles  around  that  had  not  been 
seen  in  that  gathering  of  the  ancient  representatives  of 
Big  Creek  Gap  and  its  neighbourhood. 

The  sash  for  a  moment  resisted  the  girl's  efforts. 
Then  it  yielded. 

"  Were  you  looking  for  me  ? "  she  began,  and  stopped. 
The  space  without  the  house  was  empty. 

"  She  must  be  a  witch,"  exclaimed  Naomi,  with  a  half 
laugh.  She  did  not  know  how  unanimously  Big  Creek 
would  have  echoed  her  words. 

She  went  outside,  and  looked  round  the  corner  of  the 
house.  Unless  her  gaze  had  penetrated  a  dense  clump 
of  bushes  some  hundred  yards  away,  she  could  not  have 
found  the  figure  she  sought.  Strange  and  unlike  the 
community  about  her  was  the  woman  who  crouched 
among  those  bushes  and  peered  out  at  the  girl.  From 
the  brogans  that  covered  her  feet  to  the  limp,  unkempt 
hair  beneath  the  man's  hat  upon  her  head,  she  was  an 
object  peculiar  enough  to  warrant  the  awed  curiosity 
with  which  Big  Creek  regarded  her  when  she  passed. 
Her  brown  wrinkled  hands  were  suggestive  of  a 
mummy,  but  the  curve  of  the  lips  told  of  a  spirit  very 
much  alive  within  that  dried-up  outer  case  of  flesh. 

"  No,  hit's  plumb  sure.  Thar  hain't  nary  place  for 
doubt.  Thar's  no  mistakin'  that  face  anywhars.  Thar  '11 
come  evil  aout  of  hit  —  to  somebody." 

There  was  a  sinister  gleam  in  the  eyes ;  and  the  lips 
that  had  opened  to  disclose  two  solitary,  tusk-like  teeth, 


VISITING   THE    SIN  131 

set  in  the  upper  and  lower  jaw  respectively,  shut  with  a 
snap. 

If  Naomi  had  seen  that  mouth  and  those  eyes  just 
then,  it  is  possible  she  would  not  have  gone  back  into 
the  kitchen  so  contentedly,  nor  have  left  it  as  readily  a 
few  minutes  later  to  run  across  to  the  nearest  house. 
She  had  hardly  disappeared  when  a  tall,  bent  form  came 
boldly  out  of  the  bushes,  and  walked  into  the  kitchen 
the  girl  had  just  left.  The  old  woman  glanced  curiously 
round  the  room,  and  passed  on.  Was  it  by  some  occult 
means  that  she  divined  the  direction  in  which  to  turn 
her  steps  ?  Possibly  there  were  signs  by  which  she 
recognized  a  maiden's  chamber,  but  of  a  certainty  she 
did  not  hesitate.  Her  feet  carried  her  unfalteringly  into 
the  room  which  the  girl  had  appropriated  as  her  own. 

"Thar  is  ways,"  she  said,  and  advanced  to  the  bed, 
covered  with  a  wondrous  quilt  of  elaborate  design. 

Was  she  studying  the  workmanship  of  that  quilt,  that 
she  bent  over  it  so  assiduously,  the  dry,  wrinkled  fingers 
of  one  hand  clutching  it  tightly  as  those  of  the  other 
moved  over  its  surface  ? 

"Thar  is  ways,"  she  repeated,  as  she  crossed  the 
threshold  again ;  and  she  said  the  words  aloud. 

She  was  hardly  out  of  sight  on  her  way  to  the  Gap 
when  a  boy  darted  into  the  house  where  Naomi  was 
talking  to  a  neighbour. 

"Lor  me!  you've  had  a  visitor,"  he  shouted,  inter- 
rupting the  conversation  with  the  assurance  of  the 
bearer  of  news. 

Naomi  turned  to  him  with  a  smile. 

"  Who  was  it  ? "  she  asked  with  some  indifference. 

"  China  Partins.  Lor  !  you  don't  know  he-er.  She's 
a  wi-itch  !  " 

The  shock  head  of  the  boy  wagged  with  importance. 
He  looked  from  one  to  the  other  of  his  hearers. 

"  What  was  she  doin'  thar  ? " 


132  VISITING   THE    SIN 

The  woman's  voice  rose  with  excitement.  She  could 
appreciate  the  situation  better  than  could  this  girl  who 
was  a  stranger. 

"  I  hain't  plumb  sure,"  responded  the  boy.  "  She  was 
in  thar  a  right  smart  while." 

"Better  go  and  see,  girl,"  advised  the  woman,  and 
she  manifested  her  appreciation  of  her  own  advice  by 
following  it  herself. 

"  Lor  me !  China  Partins  don't  go  inter  no  house  for 
nothin',"  she  remarked,  as  she  hurried  along  by  Naomi's 
side.  "Thar  wouldn't  many  welcome  her,  and  she 
knows  hit,  though  thar  hain't  one  in  twenty  dare  shew 
her  she  hain't  wanted.  You  mark  my  words,  darter,  she 
hain't  up  to  no  good." 

The  house  was  as  Naomi  had  left  it,  or  appeared  to 
be  so.  It  was  not  until  they  went  into  Naomi's  room 
that  sign  of  the  visitor  was  discovered.  It  was  the 
neighbour  who  stepped  hastily  over  to  the  bed,  and 
stood  for  a  full  minute  silently  contemplating  the  quilt, 
a  magnificent  specimen  of  the  lone  star  pattern. 

"  Lor  me !  Mercy  sakes ! "  she  gasped  at  last. 
"Hain't  that  jist  what  I  said?  I  knowed  she  warn't 
here  for  no  good.  Look  a-thar,  girl !  " 

Naomi's  eyes  followed  the  direction  of  the  extended 
finger,  and  lighted  upon  the  quilt.  What  strange  freak 
was  this,  for  an  old  woman  to  come  sticking  needles 
and  pins  in  her  bed  ?  Naomi  counted  them  hastily, — 
eighteen  in  all,  nine  of  a  kind.  Then  she  stood  staring 
at  them  in  blank  astonishment. 

"Nine  new  needles  and  nine  new  pins,"  said  the 
neighbour,  in  awed  tones.  "  They're  plumb  new,  every 
one  of  'em.  Lor!  hit's  awful." 

Naomi  looked  down  upon  them.  Yes,  they  were 
surely  new,  every  one  of  the  eighteen.  She  was  too 
thoroughly  a  mountain  girl  herself  not  to  understand 
that  their  appearance  there  was  a  threat  of  evil. 


VISITING   THE    SIN  133 

"  Hit's  a  spell,  that's  what  hit  is,"  said  the  woman, 
impressively. 

Naomi  laughed,  but  the  laugh  was  not  quite  easy. 

"  Why  should  she  have  a  grudge  against  me  ? "  she  said. 
"  The  old  woman  must  be  crazy." 

"  No,  she  hain't,"  was  the  response.  "  China  Partins 
hain't  crazy,  though  she's  a  hundred  if  she's  a  day. 
She's  a  wi-itch,  that's  what  she  is.  Lor!  everybody's 
scart  at  her.  Thar  hain't  nobody  been  inside  her 
house  this  ten  year  and  more.  Thar  was  old  A'nt 
Riley  'lowed  she'd  go  thar  and  visit.  Mercy!  She 
sot  aout,  but  she  never  got  thar.  No,  she  didn't. 
China  Partins  met  her  in  the  Gap,  and  she  muttered 
words  that  started  A'nt  Riley's  teeth  chatterin',  and 
afore  she  knowed  hit  she  was  turnin'  round  to  come 
back  this  away.  She  didn't  git  home  so  easy,  though. 
Gin  she'd  got  nigh  upon  clar  o'  the  Gap,  thar  come  up 
sich  thunder  and  lightnin'  as  warn't  never  seed  this  away 
neither  before  nor  since.  Yes'm.  And  A'nt  Riley  was 
shocked  by  the  lightnin'.  She  warn't  killed,  but  she  was 
shocked  powerful  bad.  She  didn't  come  to  herself  for 
hours  atter,  and  when  she  did,  she  'lowed  it  was  all  along 
o'  China  Partins.  Yes,  she's  a  witch,  sure  enough.  Hit 
hain't  safe  to  contrairy  her." 

Naomi  was  at  a  loss  to  know  how  she  had  "contrai- 
ried"  this  old  woman  whom  she  did  not  even  know. 
She  would  have  denied  the  possibility  altogether,  but  the 
memory  of  those  fierce-looking  eyes  that  had  gazed  in  at 
her  through  the  glass  arrested  the  denial  as  well  as  the 
laugh  that  was  on  her  lips.  How  she  had  "  contrairied  " 
her  she  could  not  tell,  but  the  fact  seemed  fairly  evident. 

As  she  drew  the  needles  and  pins  from  the  quilt,  the 
girl  was  wondering  whether  danger  still  lurked  in  this 
Tennessee  valley  as  it  had  lurked  when  her  father  came 
here  years  before. 

"  The  old  hag ! "  said  Will  Hollingsworth,  when  he 


134  VISITING   THE    SIN 

came  in  with  Dal  that  evening  and  heard  the  story. 
"  We  shall  have  to  teach  her  better  manners." 

Dalbert  took  the  matter  more  seriously. 

"  She  resents  our  coming  here,  for  some  reason,"  he 
said.  "  It  looks  mighty  like  trying  to  drive  us  away." 

"Let  her  try,"  responded  Naomi,  with  the  slightest 
possible  access  of  colour  in  her  cheeks.  "  It  will  take 
more  than  old  China  Part  ins  for  tha-at." 

Dalbert  had  not  much  time  to  spare  for  witches.  He 
was  throwing  his  whole  heart  into  his  new  work.  Will 
Hollingsworth  smiled,  a  little  satirically,  at  the  amount 
of  energy  expended  by  the  new  superintendent.  There 
was  not  as  much  to  do  here  as  at  Cedar  Fork,  for  the 
mill  owner  confined  his  attention  simply  to  the  working 
of  the  mill,  leaving  the  cutting  of  the  timber  in  other 
hands. 

"  You  look  as  if  you  might  pick  up  the  mill  and  carry 
it  away  in  your  arms  one  of  these  days,"  laughed  the 
owner.  "  You  are  too  desperately  in  earnest  for  this 
little  venture." 

"  I  feel  like  running  away  with  something,"  replied 
Dalbert.  "  It's  all  very  well  for  you  to  take  things 
quietly.  You  haven't  to  make  up  for  your  own  folly  and 
another  man's  dishonesty." 

Will  shrugged  his  shoulders.  The  motion  said  that 
it  would  take  more  than  a  few  debts  to  disturb  the  even 
tenor  of  his  way.  He  watched  with  amusement  his  su- 
perintendent's feverish  eagerness  to  pay  off  old  claims. 

"  He's  a  young  idiot  who  will  learn  better  as  he  grows 
older  —  or  perhaps  not  even  then,"  he  said  with  a 
laugh. 

However  it  might  be  with  the  superintendent,  the 
superintendent's  sister  met  with  the  mill  owner's  entire 
approval.  By  a  certain  law  of  gravitation  his  feet  turned 
often  in  the  direction  of  the  Gap,  for  it  was  at  that  end 
of  the  village  that  Naomi  had  established  herself. 


VISITING   THE   SIN  135 

"Lucky  fellow,  that  Dal,"  he  said  with  an  openly 
appealing  glance  at  Naomi.  "  Why  don't  all  men  have 
sisters?" 

"They  do, —  most  of  them,"  said  Naomi,  demurely. 

"  Sisters  !  Yes, —  too  many  of  them.  But  a  feller 
wants  the  right  sort." 

"The  sort  depend  on  the  feller  —  mostly,"  she  said. 
"  It  makes  a  powerful  difference  what  kind  of  man  a 
girl  is  sister  to." 

"And  I'm  not  the  right  kind?"  he  asked,  his  eyes 
laughing  into  hers. 

"  I'll  tell  you  when  I  see  you  with  your  sister,"  she 
said.  "  Hasty  judgments  are  powerful  dangerous." 

"  They're  not  the  only  things  that  are  powerful  dan- 
gerous," he  said,  looking  again  into  her  eyes. 

More  than  two  weeks  had  gone  by  since  Naomi  and 
Dalbert  rode  through  the  Gap,  when  a  pair  of  vindictive 
eyes  again  peered  down  into  the  pass  from  behind  a 
rock.  They  shone  just  as  they  had  shone  when  the 
brother  and  sister  passed  beneath  them.  Old  China 
Partins  was  not  in  a  serene  state  of  mind, —  had  not 
been  in  a  serene  state  of  mind  since  that  day  when  she 
looked  down  from  beyond  this  gateway  of  the  mountains 
and  saw  the  two  travellers  approaching.  As  a  rule,  the 
comings  and  goings  of  the  inhabitants  of  Big  Creek  Gap 
troubled  her  little.  For  some  inexplicable  reason  these 
new-comers  stood  on  a  different  footing. 

"  I  hain't  carin '  abaout  the  boy,"  muttered  the  old 
woman.  "He's  safe  enough.  He's  got  his  work  to  at- 
tend to,  and  he'll  attend  to  hit.  But  the  gal  —  thar's 
no  account  in'  for  he-er.  What's  that  ?" 

The  long,  shrivelled  neck  reached  out  till  the  eyes 
could  look  down  —  down  —  over  the  precipitous  slopes. 
The  ears  were  listening  for  a  repetition  of  the  sound. 
It  came,  the  thud  of  feet  upon  the  hillside,  followed  by 
the  rattle  of  falling  stones.  Whatever  was  approaching 


136  VISITING   THE    SIN 

was  beneath  an  overhanging  rock,  and  could  not  yet  be 
discerned.     China  Partins  waited. 

"  Hit's  the  horse  she  was  a  ridin'.  Hit  hain't  throwed 
her,  though, —  more's  the  pity." 

A  smile  that  was  as  uncanny  as  the  lurid  gleam  of  fire 
from  the  heart  of  a  thunder-cloud  greeted  the  appear- 
ance of  Duke's  head  round  a  projecting  rock.  The  ab- 
sence of  saddle  or  bridle  presently  confirmed  the  old 
woman's  statement  that  the  horse  had  not  thrown  his 
rider. 

If  Duke  had  seen  the  smile  on  those  thin  lips,  he 
might  have  taken  warning  ;  for  Duke  was  a  wise  horse. 
As  it  was,  he  came  on,  going  upward  because  it  was 
easier  than  going  downward.  Was  it  a  memory  of 
Cedar  Fork,  a  hankering  after  the  old  pastures,  that  had 
induced  the  horse  to  leave  the  lower  stretches  of  un- 
fenced  land  where  he  had  been  feeding,  and  take  to  the 
mountain  ?  Duke  had  lost  his  bearings,  and  wandered 
into  the  Gap.  Then  some  impulse  of  the  moment  or 
some  memory  of  the  past  set  him  climbing,  and  his 
climbing  brought  him  beneath  the  eye  of  China  Partins. 

Duke  was  sure-footed  as  a  rule.  Many  a  steep  hill- 
side had  he  surmounted,  with  Naomi  on  his  back.  The 
spirit  of  the  mountaineer  was  in  the  horse.  Yet  he 
gave  a  snort  of  disapproval  or  fear  when  a  big  stone 
gave  way  under  his  feet,  and  almost  precipitated  him  to 
the  jagged  rocks  immediately  below.  He  had  not  alto- 
gether reckoned  on  the  steepness  of  the  way  when  he 
began  the  ascent.  Still,  he  went  on,  planting  his  feet 
cautiously  upon  the  loosening  stones,  and  springing  for- 
ward. He  did  not  see  the  figure  that  drew  itself  to  its 
full  height,  sheltering  behind  a  projecting  rock.  It  was 
in  the  most  slippery  and  precipitous  part  of  the  ascent, 
when  the  top  was  almost  gained,  that  those  bright, 
steely  eyes  looked  straight  into  his  from  over  a  boulder, 
and  a  harsh,  discordant  voice  broke  into  a  laugh. 


VISITING   THE    SIN  137 

The  eyes  and  the  laugh  were  responsible  for  the  sud- 
den swerving  aside  of  the  horse,  and  the  swerving  aside 
was  responsible  for  what  followed.  When  Duke  lay,  a 
quivering,  shuddering  body,  bruised  and  battered  upon 
the  jagged  rocks  half-way  down  the  mountain,  that  laugh 
went  out  again  upon  the  air. 

"  She  hain't  goin'  to  ride  you-u  through  the  Gap  any 
more." 

Yes,  Duke  was  a  wise  horse,  in  spite  of  the  mistake 
he  made  that  morning.  He  heard  the  voice  above  him  ; 
but,  while  his  great,  pathetic  eyes  swept  the  hillside  for 
a  possible  rescuer,  he  uttered  no  whinny  of  appeal  to 
that  presence  upon  the  top  of  the  mountain.  It  was  not 
until  footsteps  were  heard  below  that  his  first  cry  of  dis- 
tress broke  the  stillness  of  Big  Creek  Gap.  It  came 
before  the  girl's  voice  called  his  name  in  the  distance,  or 
her  musical  whistle  vibrated  through  the  air.  Duke  did 
not  wait  for  the  voice  of  his  mistress.  He  had  heard 
her  footsteps  long  before. 

"  Duke  !     Duke,  my  beauty  !  " 

She  was  by  his  side  upon  the  mountain,  her  face  close 
to  his.  The  great,  despairing  eyes  looked  into  hers,  and 
the  horse  slowly  and  painfully  raised  his  head.  Then  it 
fell  back  heavily  as  he  gave  up  the  attempt  with  a  low 
moan  of  pain. 

"Duke!  Duke!  why  did  you  come  here?  There's 
evil  in  this  valley,"  said  the  girl,  in  a  low,  sorrowful 
tone,  her  hand  the  while  caressing  her  favourite's  nose. 

She  was  so  intent  upon  watching  Duke  that  she  did 
not  see  that  another  was  watching  her  from  above,  nor 
know  that  a  heavy  lump  of  rock  was  held  at  full  length 
by  a  powerful  arm.  Was  there  no  sixth  sense  to  warn 
her  of  the  moment  when  that  messenger  of  death  hung 
fairly  over  her  head  ? 

"  Hit's  abaout  as  safe  as  ary  way,"  whispered  a  voice 
that  trembled  with  something  more  than  age. 


1 38  VISITING   THE    SIN 

The  parchment  face  of  China  Partins  worked  con- 
vulsively, as  her  arm  —  stronger  yet  than  that  of  half 
the  men  of  Big  Creek  —  straightened  itself  out  to  hold 
that  murderous  lump  of  rock  in  a  position  from  which 
it  could  best  crush  the  life  out  of  the  lithe,  girlish  form 
below. 

"Thar's  evil  got  to  come  —  to  somebody,"  muttered 
the  old  woman.  Hatred,  hesitation,  anger,  determina- 
tion, passed  in  turn  over  her  face.  Then  the  arm  was 
stretched  over  the  mountain  side  a  little  further,  the 
fingers  began  to  relax,  and  —  stopped.  In  the  old  face 
hatred  had  given  place  to  fear. 

There  was  no  change  in  the  position  below,  except 
that  a  pair  of  dark  eyes,  with  tears  in  them,  had  turned 
upward,  not  to  the  mountain  ledge,  but  to  the  blue  sky 
over  the  heads  of  watcher  and  watched. 

"  I  cain't  du  hit  —  not  with  them  eyes  a-lookin'  up. 
Curse  her !  What  right  has  she  to  them  ?  " 

The  hand  was  drawn  back,  trembling.  The  stone 
dropped  harmlessly  to  the  ground.  And  the  girl  below 
never  knew  how  near  she  had  come  to  sharing  the  same 
fate  with  Duke, —  death  upon  the  mountain  side. 

"  Duke,  dear  old  Duke,  good-by." 

She  had  been  looking  into  the  animal's  eyes  and  see- 
ing the  suffering  there.  Now  she  put  her  trembling 
lips  down  upon  his  nose,  and  felt  the  quiver  of  pain  and 
longing.  The  next  moment  her  hand  had  sought  and 
found  a  remedy.  She  applied  it  unshrinkingly.  There 
came  the  sharp,  ringing  sound  of  a  shot,  one  low  moan, 
and  Duke's  pain  was  over. 

The  girl  watched  till  the  supple  limbs  began  to  grow 
cold,  and  then,  with  lips  pressed  tightly  together,  and 
eyes  that  were  unseeing,  made  her  way  down  the  hillside, 
oppressed  with  a  sense  of  ill.  Many  minutes  before,  an 
old  woman  had  moved  hurriedly  away  up  on  the  moun- 
tain top,  rage  and  disappointment  making  tumult  in  her 


VISITING   THE    SIN  139 

heart.  Whatever  the  impulse  that  had  caused  her  to 
spare  the  girl,  a  diminution  of  hatred  had  nothing  to  do 
with  it. 

"Thar  '11  evil  come  —  to  somebody,"  she  said,  as  she 
struck  across  the  mountain  top. 

"  There's  a  curse  on  the  valley,"  asserted  Naomi,  as 
she  told  the  story  of  Duke's  death  to  Dalbert  that  even- 
ing. He  made  her  no  reply.  The  thoughts  of  both 
brother  and  sister  had  gone  from  the  loss  of  the  horse 
to  an  earlier  and  greater  loss.  Dalbert  was  wondering, 
as  he  had  often  wondered  before,  how  long  Naomi  would 
be  content  to  let  the  past  rest  in  its  uncertainty.  For 
himself,  he  had  already  made  some  inquiries  about  the 
man  Kennedy  Poteet  —  with  conflicting  results. 

"Thar  warn't  no  rarl  harm  in  Kennedy,  outside  a 
pretty  stiffish  temper,"  declared  one  of  the  residents  of 
Big  Creek  Gap,  voicing  the  sentiment  of  many.  "  Thar 
was  a  powerful  unpleasant  thing  happened  in  that  big 
house  o'  hisn  onct,  and  folks  hain't  never  forgot  hit. 
Hit  was  that  led  to  talk,  and  to  say  in'  more  'n  anybody 
could  prue-uve. 

"  When  was  hit  ?  Hit  was  when  Ab  was  a  little 
bitty  feller.  Ab  was  the  only  child  Kennedy  Poteet 
had,  and  he  hain't  never  been  the  same  since.  They  did 
say  he  was  thar  in  the  room  when  old  Kennedy  and  a 
feller  that  was  stoppin'  at  his  house  had  some  words 
abaout  money,  and  Kennedy  sorter  got  his  temper  het 
up,  and  thar  was  bloodshed.  Hit  was  told  how  that 
Ab's  little  bitty  hands  was  red  with  blood,  a-pullin'  his 
daddy  away.  We-uns  never  knowed  the  truth  of  hit. 
That  thar  traveller  was  dead,  that  was  tol'rable  sure ; 
and  thar  warn't  nobody  never  come  to  look  atter  him. 
Whether  hit  was  much  money  or  little  they  come  to 
words  over,  we-all  didn't  find  aout.  The  man  warn't  in 
no  condition  to  tell,  and  thar  was  an  end  of  hit.  Ken- 
nedy swore  hit  was  done  in  self-defence,  and  thar  warn't 


140  VISITING   THE    SIN 

nobody  to  say  hit  warn't.  We-all  hadn't  nothin'  to  say 
about  hit.  Kennedy  was  a  good  neighbour  enough. 
Thar  was  folks  that  said  that  warn't  the  only  traveller 
old  Ken  fell  foul  of.  Them  as  said  that  warn't  his 
friends,  though.  Hit's  ill  gittin'  your  tale  out  o'  the 
mouth  of  a  man's  enemies." 

Big  Creek  Gap  was  divided  on  the  subject  of  this 
dead  and  gone  rich  man  of  the  valley.  There  were 
those  who  shook  their  heads  mysteriously  when  his 
name  was  mentioned. 

"  When  a  man's  son  cain't  be  brought  to  stay  in  his 
house,  thar's  a  screw  loose  somewhars,"  asserted  this 
section  of  the  community.  "  Ab  couldn't  never  be  kep' 
at  home  more  'n  a  month  or  two  together.  His  father 
had  to  send  him  to  a  sister  of  hisn,  a  powerful  good 
woman.  Lor !  the  boy  useter  turn  white  as  a  ha'nt  if 
he  had  to  stop  in  that  house  alone.  Ab  was  tol'rable 
easy  scart.  Not  but  thar  was  reason  enough  for  fear. 
Spirits  that's  sent  outer  the  body  afore  their  time  hain't 
likely  to  rest  well." 

Dalbert  knew  as  little  what  to  think  when  his  inqui- 
ries had  been  made  as  before  he  made  them.  He 
thought  he  knew  what  would  be  Naomi's  conclusion, 
and  he  waited  rather  nervously  for  her  first  attempts  at 
a  solution  of  the  mystery. 

The  girl  had  said  she  would  wait  and  see.  She  was 
waiting.  She  had  long  since  learned  that  the  big  house 
in  the  hollow  had  been  the  home  of  Kennedy  Poteet. 
That  house  no  longer  appealed  to  her  with  respectable 
pride.  She  thought  of  it  as  the  scene  of  old  Kennedy's 
crimes,  and  the  house  and  its  former  owner  became  as 
one  in  her  estimation.  She  had  a  vague  feeling  that  the 
story  of  Kennedy  Poteet's  life  was  shut  away  within 
those  solid  log  walls,  together  with  a  conviction  that 
those  same  walls  had  hidden  the  tragedy  of  a  life  that 
was  dear  to  her. 


VISITING   THE    SIN  141 

Perhaps  it  was  the  restlessness  of  grief  at  Duke's 
loss,  or  a  sense  of  mysterious  evil  lurking  in  this  valley, 
that  on  the  following  day  caused  Naomi  to  walk  along 
the  valley  road,  and  stop  beneath  the  shadow  of  the  big 
house.  Standing  in  the  place  where  Abner  had  stood 
on  the  night  of  the  preaching,  she  looked  up  at  the 
windows  upon  which  his  gaze  had  been  fixed.  Was  it 
in  that  long,  shallow  balcony  above  the  piazza  that  her 
father  had  sat  after  he  had  penned  his  last  letter, —  sat 
and  thought  of  his  boy  and  girl  upon  the  hillside  farm, 
until  the  shadows  crept  across  the  valley,  and  he  turned 
back  into  one  of  those  rooms  with  the  small  window- 
panes  —  to  meet  his  death  ? 

The  girl  grew  hot  and  cold  at  the  mere  suggestion. 
The  quick,  irregular  beating  of  her  heart  was  index  of 
the  emotion  stirring  within.  She  did  not  for  a  moment 
doubt  that  her  father  had  sought  shelter  within  that 
house,  since  it  had  stood  for  village  inn  in  the  absence 
of  any  regular  place  of  entertainment  for  travellers. 
The  story  told  by  the  guide  through  the  Gap  had  taken 
a  firm  hold  upon  her  imagination.  She  could  not  help 
associating  it  with  her  father's  disappearance.  Now,  as 
she  stood  by  the  old  dwelling,  imagination  took  up  the 
story ;  and  she  lived  over  again  the  events  of  that  night 
as  she  pictured  them, —  the  cowardly  attack,  the  short, 
desperate  fight  for  life,  the  cruel  moment  when  resist- 
ance ceased,  and  the  silence  of  death.  Her  face  had 
grown  white  as  the  clouds  that  hung  high  in  the  sum- 
mer sky,  but  her  eyes  shone  like  burning  coals  as  she 
kept  them  fixed  upon  the  windows  above. 

"If  he  did  —  that, —  justice  shall  fall  yet,  though  he 
did  cheat  it  by  slinking  out  of  the  world  like  a  coward  !  " 

The  low-spoken  words  pulsated  through  the  hot  air, 
and  to  the  girl's  excited  fancy  seemed  to  go  on  and  out 
till  they  struck  against  the  solid,  resisting  walls.  They 
were  the  outward  expression  of  the  strong  will  that  had 


142  VISITING   THE    SIN 

set  itself  to  bring  vengeance  to  that  house  and  to  all 
whom  it  represented.  The  words  were  of  the  nature  of 
a  vow. 

"  Plumb  foolish  to  keep  hit  shet  up,  hain't  hit  ?  " 

The  girl  started  violently.  It  was  a  wrench  to  come 
back  to  the  present.  The  old  face  that  was  turned  up 
to  hers  belonged  to  the  past  as  fully  as  did  the  old 
house.  For  the  moment  it  seemed  to  Naomi  that  it 
had  stepped  out  from  those  other  days  at  the  call  of  her 
own  fancy. 

"  Lor  me !  you  du  look  scart.  Didn't  you  hear  me 
come  ? " 

"  No,"  said  Naomi,  in  a  voice  altogether  unlike  itself. 

Even  yet  she  could  not  quite  bring  herself  back  to  the 
present. 

"Who  lived  there?"  she  asked  after  a  moment's  si- 
lence, anxious  to  say  something.  The  old  woman  was 
staring  at  her  curiously. 

"  Lor !  don't  you  know  ? "  was  the  answer.  "  That's 
old  Kennedy  Poteet's  house.  He's  been  dead  this  nine 
years,  and  buried.  And  since  the  day  they  carried  him 
outer  that  house,  thar  hain't  nobody  never  lived  in  hit." 

"  Who  should  live  in  it  ?  "  asked  Naomi. 

"  Who  ?  Why,  Ab,  of  course.  My  lor  !  you  hev  gone 
white!  You  lueke  as  if  you'd  been  sick  and  jist  got  a 
backset.  Better  come  in  bye,  and  rest  a  bit." 

"  Do  you  live  near  here  ? "  asked  Naomi. 

"  Lor,  yes !  hit  hain't  a  great  ways." 

"Then  I  will  rest,  I  think,"  said  Naomi. 

"  You  better,"  replied  the  woman.  "  You're  the  sis- 
ter of  the  new  superintendent  at  the  mill,  hain't  ye  ? " 

"  Yes,"  said  the  girl.  "  You  ought  to  have  been  in 
to  see  me  before  this." 

"  Lor  !  that's  true,"  was  the  answer.  "  But  I  hain't 
one  to  go  round  a  smart  sight.  You  hain't  learned  yit  — 
you're  too  young  to  learn  hit  —  that  legs  grow  old  a 


VISITING  THE   SIN  143 

sight  quicker  'n  heads  and  tongues.  Thar  hain't  much 
that's  happened  in  my  time  that  I  cain't  remember,  and 
tell,  too ;  but,  when  hit  comes  to  runnin'  round,  my  legs 
soon  lets  me  know  I  hain't  as  young  as  I  was." 

She  hobbled  along  by  the  girl's  side,  looking  curiously 
at  her  companion  the  while. 

"  Here  we  are,"  she  exclaimed,  as,  the  "  branch  "  be- 
ing crossed,  they  came  to  a  cabin  by  the  roadside. 
"  Come  in,  and  set  down." 

From  the  threshold  a  part  of  the  big  house  could  be 
seen,  half  shut  in  by  the  hills  and  its  own  encircling 
trees. 

"  Did  you  know  Kennedy  Poteet  ? "  asked  Naomi, 
seating  herself  where  she  could  see  the  building  about 
which  her  thoughts  were  yet  centred. 

"Know  him?  Lor  me!  how  could  I  he'p  knowin' 
him  ? "  ejaculated  the  woman.  "  Hain't  I  lived  less  'n 
half  a  mile  from  his  house  ever  since  I  was  married  ? 
Know  Kennedy  Poteet !  Oh,  lor ! " 

The  girl  looked  at  her  for  a  moment  with  the  colour 
coming  slowly  back  to  her  cheeks.  Then  she  rose  sud- 
denly and  stood  before  her. 

"Did  you  ever  see  anybody  go  into  that  house  that 
looked  like  me  ? "  she  asked,  and  stood  still  beneath  the 
gaze  of  the  old  curious  eyes. 

The  woman  looked  at  her,  hesitated,  pulled  out  her 
glasses,  and  deliberately  fitted  them  on  her  nose. 
Naomi  stood  before  her,  motionless. 

Old  eyes  are  slow,  and  those  particular  eyes  meant  to 
be  sure.  They  took  their  time.  The  girl  did  not  stir. 

"Yes,  I  hev" 

The  words  came  out  like  a  shot  from  a  gun,  and  the 
woman  removed  her  spectacles.  The  next  moment  she 
put  them  on  again. 

"You  can  set  down,"  she  said  triumphantly.  "I've 
recollected  him.  Thar  don't  nobody  beat  me  at  recol- 


144  VISITING   THE    SIN 

lectin.'  They  useter  couldn't ;  and  they  cain't  now,  if  I 
am  old,  and  weak  on  the  legs." 

She  nodded  her  head  wisely,  and  stared  at  the  girl. 

"You  favour  him  consid'rable,  but  you  hain't  jist  like 
him,"  she  said  after  an  appreciable  silence.  "  Hit's 
more  pertic'ler  abaout  the  eyes." 

"  When  did  you  see  him  ? " 

Naomi's  voice  was  carefully  restrained. 

"  Hit  was, —  lor  me !  let's  see, —  hit  must  'a  been 
abaout  fourteen  year  ago.  He  come  through  here  with 
a  drove  o'  mules." 

Naomi  nodded. 

"  Was  he  your  pappy  ? " 

Again  there  was  a  nod  of  assent. 

The  old  woman  wagged  her  head  complacently. 

"  I  hain't  surprised,"  she  said.  "  You  du  favour  him 
consid'rable.  I  hain't  one  to  forgit  faces.  Thar  was  a 
sight  o'  people  come  through  this  away  abaout  that  same 
time.  Some  of  'em  drove  mules,  and  some  hogs,  goin' 
to  Georgy.  Thar  was  a  powerful  many  I  never  tuk  no 
account  on  ;  but  ki-im, —  lor  !  thar  was  no  passin'  him 
over,  he  was  that  powerful  tall  and  handsome.  I  declar 
hit  was  a  sight  to  lue-uke  at  hi-im." 

« Did  he  stay  at  that  house  ? "  asked  the  girl,  her 
voice  breaking  a  little. 

"  Kennedy  Poteet's  ?  Lor,  yes  !  They  all  did.  Hit 
was  a  better  house  than  ary  o'  we-uns  had.  Thar  was 
a  sight  o'  ruemes  in  hit." 

"  Do  you  know  how  long  he  stopped  ?  " 

The  question  was  eager 

"  I  cain't  jist  say  that,"  responded  the  old  woman,  re- 
flectively. "I  never  knowed  for  certain.  I  seed  him 
more  'n  onct,  owin'  to  his  stayin'  here  longer  'n  one 
night  on  account  of  a  sick  mule.  They  useter  go  on  the 
next  day,  the  most  part  on  'em ;  but  he  was  forced  to 
stay.  He  seemed  a  powerful  kind  man  to  his  animals." 


VISITING   THE    SIN  145 

"He  was  kind  to  everything." 

The  voice  faltered  at  the  last  word.  The  old  woman 
looked  at  the  speaker  sharply. 

"  Lor !  he  hain't  dead,  is  he  ? "  she  asked. 

Naomi  nodded.  It  would  not  have  been  quite  easy  to 
speak. 

"  Oh,  my  lor !  Well,  I  hain't  surprised.  I  useter  say 
I  was  sure  somethin'  had  happened  to  him." 

"Why?" 

The  question  came  sharply. 

"We-el,"  replied  the  woman,  "hit  was  along  o'  my 
seein'  his  live  spirit." 

"His  spirit!" 

"Yes,  his  live  spirit,"  repeated  the  old  woman. 
"Thar's  some  believes  in  dead  spirits, —  ha'nts  they 
calls  'em.  Lor !  hit  hain't  dead  spirits  that  disturbs  me. 
I  reckon  them  that's  dead  has  got  a  right  smart  better 
to  du  than  to  be  comin'  back  that  away.  Hit's  the  live 
spirits  that  scare  me, —  the  spirit  that  comes  aout  of  a 
man  when  he's  a-settin'  thar  by  your  side  or  layin' 
sleepin'  on  the  bed.  And  I  see  that  man's  live  spirit 
as  clar  as  ever  I  see  a  live  spirit  in  my  life.  I  warn't 
afraid.  I  knowed  thar  warn't  no  harm  meant  to  me 
that  time,  for  hit  was  a-comin'  right  on  towards  me.  If 
hit  had  been  goin'  away,  I  should  'a  been  scart.  But 
hit  did  give  me  a  kind  of  a  turn,  for  I'd  seed  the  man 
a-settin'  in  one  of  them  downstars  rooms  not  ten  minutes 
afore." 

"  Are  you  sure  ? "  gasped  Naomi.  "  Are  you  certain 
you  remembered  his  looks  ?  " 

"  Oh,  lor  !  mercy  me !  Remember  him  !  I  should 
jist  think  I  did.  Why,  gal,  I  couldn't  'a  forgot  him  if 
I'd  a  mind.  He  was  a-settin'  at  that  thar  winder  on 
the  further  side  o'  the  door,  nearest  to  the  jog  thar ;  and 
his  face  showed  powerful  plain  through  the  glass.  His 
eyes  had  a  sorrowful  look  in  'em,  as  if  he  was  a-thinkin' 
o'  somebody  dead  and  gone." 


146  VISITING   THE    SIN 

"  I  know,"  whispered  Naomi ;  and  there  were  tears  in 
her  eyes. 

"He  was  so  powerful  handsome  that  I  looked  rarl 
hard,"  continued  the  old  woman;  "and  he  nodded,  and 
said,  t  Howdy.'  I  heared  him,  part  with  my  ears  and 
part  by  seem'  how  his  lips  moved.  Remember  him ! 
Lor ! " 

She  stopped  with  an  expressive  snort,  and  then  re- 
sumed. 

"  Mercy  !  hit  was  a  si-ight.  I  hadn't  more  'n  jist  got 
home  when  I  seed  his  live  spirit  a-comin'  along  the  road 
from  the  Gap.  Thar  hit  was  as  plain  as  daylight,  and 
him  a-settin'  in  the  house  not  many  minutes  afore.  I 
looked  at  hit ;  and  then  I  jist  squeezed  my  nose  agin  the 
glass,  and  who  should  I  see  but  the  very  man  a-puttin' 
his  head  outer  that  upstars  winder  you  can  see  thar. 
He'd  opened  the  winder,  and  stuck  his  head  aout.  And 
thar  was  his  spirit  a-comin'  straight  on  down  the  road. 
Lor  me !  hit  made  me  all  of  a  cold  sweat ! " 

She  looked  triumphantly  at  her  listener.  The  colour 
had  again  left  the  girl's  face.  The  narration  was  so 
circumstantial  that  she  had  forgotten  her  present  sur- 
roundings, and  was  looking  through  those  sharp  old 
eyes,  not  at  the  things  of  to-day,  but  at  those  of  the 
past.  She  saw  her  father's  face  again,  with  the  far- 
away, wistful  look  upon  it  that  had  always  turned  her 
thoughts  to  the  young  mother  she  could  barely  remem- 
ber. Moreover,  the  old  woman's  certainty  of  the  reality 
of  the  happenings  of  her  weird  story  was  not  without 
its  effect  upon  her.  She  was  a  Kentucky  mountain 
girl,  born  in  an  atmosphere  of  strange  beliefs  and  unex- 
plainable  stories.  The  supernatural  seemed,  in  those 
mountain  regions,  far  removed  from  the  unnatural. 

The  narrator  interpreted  the  almost  breathless  silence 
to  her  own  satisfaction,  and  continued :  — 

"Hit  wouldn't  'a  been  a  minute  afore  hit  would  'a 


VISITING   THE    SIN  147 

turned  right  in  at  that  door.  Lor,  gal !  I  tell  ye  I  run 
powerful  smart  to  shet  hit  afore  hit  was  too  late.  And, 
as  I  come  from  shettin'  the  door,  I  seed  hit  go  clar  past 
that  winder  thar,  and  round  the  corner  o'  the  house. 
Mercy  sakes  !  I  thought  hit  was  a-goin'  to  try  the  back 
door,  and  I  recollected  I'd  left  hit  a  leetle  open.  My 
lor  !  hit  didn't  take  me  ary  time  to  git  from  the  front  to 
the  back  of  this  house.  I  run  tol'rable  quick,  I  tell  ye ; 
and  when  I  come  back,  it  was  nowhar  to  be  seen.  Hit 
was  as  clean  gone  as  if  the  ground  had  opened  and 
swallered  hit  up,  and  I  never  seed  hit  no  more." 

"  And  my  father  ? "  asked  Naomi,  her  breath  coming 
quickly. 

"  I  hain't  never  been  sure  what  become  o'  him  atter," 
said  the  old  woman,  regretfully.  "Thar  was  another 
drove  o'  mules  passed  through  the  same  day  I  seed  his 
live  spirit,  and  the  next  thar  was  soldiers  here ;  and  I 
never  heared  what  become  o'  hi-im.  Thar  was  talk  that 
he  done  sold  all  his  mules  to  the  other  feller.  I  hain't 
sure.  They'd  'a  fetched  a  powerful  lot  o'  money  if  he 
did,  for  thar  was  a  sight  o'  mules  in  his  drove.  I  hain't 
sayin'  he  didn't ;  but  if  so  be  that  he  did,  hit  was  a  right 
smart  o'  money  he  must  'a  tuk  home." 

"  He  never  came  home,"  said  Naomi,  in  a  voice  that 
had  grown  hard  and  strained. 

"  Didn't  ?     Well,  I  declar  !  " 

The  girl  rose  slowly,  and  stood  straight  and  stiff  be- 
fore her  companion. 

"This  Kennedy  Poteet?"  she  said.  "Would  you 
have  trusted  him  with  the  money  those  mules  must  have 
brought  ? " 

The  woman  looked  at  her  with  curious,  wondering 
eyes. 

"  My  lor !  I  wouldn't  'a  trusted  Kennedy  Poteet  with 
the  head  of  an  old  rusty  nail,  if  so  be  he  had  ary  use 
for  hit,  he  was  that  graspin'." 


148  VISITING  THE    SIN 

She  was  staring  at  the  girl  as  she  spoke. 

"Ah!" 

The  word  came  in  a  short,  hard  gasp. 

"And  my  father  was  in  his  house,"  continued  the 
girl.  "  There  was  Kennedy  Poteet,  and  all  the  money 
for  those  mules,  and  only  my  father's  life  between  that 
money  and  the  man  who  wanted  it.  My  father  was 
never  heard  of  again.  Tell  me  what  became  of  him." 

She  stood  towering  above  the  old  woman,  who  sat 
with  her  elbows  on  her  knees,  peering  up  into  that 
white,  working  face. 

"Tell  you  !     I  cain't,  and  nobody  cain't.     O  lor  ! " 

"7  can,"  said  the  girl,  still  in  the  same  hard  voice. 
"Kennedy  Poteet  murdered  him." 

"  Mercy  sakes  ! "  said  the  old  woman.  "  I  thought 
somethin'  had  happened  to  him  atter  I  seed  his  live 
spirit.  Kennedy  was  powerful  graspin'.  I  hain't  a- 
sayin'  he  done  tha-at,  but  hit's  tol'rable  cur'ous.  I  hain't 
a-sayin'  he  done  hit." 

"  I  am,"  was  the  answer,  in  clear,  decisive  tones. 
"  My  father  was  seen  in  his  house  before  he  sold  his 
mules.  He  was  never  seen  again." 

"  Lor,  no  !     Hit's  rarl  quar  ! " 

"It's  clear  enough  to  me,"  said  the  girl,  her  eyes 
shining  from  out  the  whiteness  of  her  face.  "Kennedy 
Poteet's  dead, —  more's  the  pity  !  " 

"  Lor  me ! "  said  the  woman,  still  peering  into  the  face 
above  her. 

"This  Abner  of  whom  you  spoke, —  where  is  he?" 
demanded  Naomi,  after  a  minute's  silence. 

"  Lor !  he  hain't  fur  off.  But  Ab  don't  know  nothin' 
abaout  hit.  He" — 

"Isn't  he  Kennedy  Poteet's  son?"  interrupted 
Naomi. 

"Lor,  yes!  He  lives  in  the  log  house  beyond  his 
father's  place, —  a  little  bitty  house.  Quar,  hain't  hit, 


VISITING   THE    SIN  149 

that  he  wouldn't  never  live  in  old  Ken's  house,  nor  yit 
let  ary  other  person  ?  " 

Naomi  did  not  answer.  She  went  to  the  door,  and 
passed  out.  On  the  threshold  she  turned. 

"He  shall  come  into  the  inheritance  of  his  father," 
she  said. 

"  Mercy  sakes !  hit's  a  si-ight,"  muttered  the  old 
woman,  as  the  girl  turned  away. 

Naomi  had  set  her  face  again  towards  the  big  house. 
Was  she  going  to  look  in  at  the  window  where  her 
father  had  sat  ?  Hardly  ;  for  her  feet  passed  the  gate 
in  the  hollow,  and  went  on  along  the  valley  road.  The 
girl  was  walking  with  a  settled  purpose.  To  her  the 
mystery  of  her  father's  disappearance  was  a  mystery  no 
longer.  The  vague  past  had  taken  definite  shape. 

The  little  log  cabin  beyond  the  turn  in  the  road  was 
tenantless  when  she  reached  its  door.  Only  the  embers 
on  the  hearth  told  of  life.  She  knocked,  and  got  no 
answer.  Then  she  pushed  open  the  door,  and  went  in. 

A  strange  light  was  in  the  eyes  that  looked  round 
that  room.  The  bare  floor  and  the  pots  and  pans  stared 
back  at  the  intruder.  Was  this  the  home  of  the  inher- 
itor of  stolen  wealth  ?  The  little  tin  mill  by  the  fire 
had  an  ear  of  corn  yet  sticking  out  of  it,  bearing  wit- 
ness to  the  fact  that  the  owner  of  the  cabin  had  but 
lately  rubbed  his  corn  on  its  diamond-holed  under-sur- 
face,  laboriously  grating  it  into  meal  for  his  dinner.  No 
feature  of  that  interior  suggested  the  presence  of  the 
son  of  a  wealthy  man.  The  cottage  showed  poverty  in 
every  detail. 

"He  has  inherited  his  father's  greed  already,"  said 
the  girl,  in  the  same  hard  voice.  "  The  curse  is  to 
come." 

She  sat  down  to  wait.  The  minutes  passed,  but  she 
showed  no  impatience.  It  was  nearing  the  time  when 
Dalbert  would  return  from  the  mill.  To-day  it  troubled 
Naomi  little  that  supper  would  be  unprepared. 


ISO  VISITING   THE    SIN 

It  was  past  six  when  Abner  Poteet  turned  towards 
the  little  cabin.  He  was  in  no  hurry  to  go  in.  Since 
the  night  of  the  preaching  the  bare  room  had  lost  its 
charm.  Visions  of  a  dark-eyed,  dark-haired  maiden 
coming  there  as  mistress  had  faded.  They  had  glorified 
that  bare  interior  for  many  a  day  —  they  would  come 
there  no  more,  except  as  memories  of  what  might  have 
been.  The  house  was  home  to  Abner  still,  but  a  home 
swept  of  its  one  bit  of  romance. 

He  came  in  with  slow,  heavy  step,  and  eyes  that  did 
not  lift.  And  then  he  stood  still.  In  a  moment  the 
room  had  become  luminous.  There  by  the  hearth  sat  — 

"  Abner  Poteet,  there  is  a  door  out  of  this  world  for 
the  murderer ;  but  the  murder  remains  ! " 

Startled  eyes  were  raised,  and  over  the  face  where  a 
wistful  light  had  crept  passed  the  evidence  of  a  great 
horror. 

"  I  know  hit,"  he  said,  looking  straight  at  the  speaker. 

"You  may  rejoice  in  the  gain,"  she  continued;  "but 
the  curse  will  not  be  cheated.  It  will  fall  on  the  son  of 
the  murderer,  and  rest  there  till  it  crushes  him  to  the 
earth." 

Her  eyes,  that  could  be  soft  and  liquid  on  occasion, 
were  ablaze  with  wrath.  She  drew  herself  up  to  her 
full  height,  and  stood  looking  at  him,  the  impersonation 
of  vengeance.  Abner' s  gaze  was  held  fascinated. 

" I  know  hit,"  he  said  again  in  low,  sad  tones.  "The 
sins  of  the  fathers  visited  on  the  children." 

"Ay,  to  the  third  and  fourth  generation,"  she  said. 
"  You  may  brave  it  aout  as  you  will,  Abner  Poteet ;  but 
the  curse  will  stick." 

"  Not  to  the  third  and  fourth  generation,"  he  said  in 
tones  lower  yet.  "  Thar  '11  be  nary  more  generations  to 
bear  hit." 

"  While  there  is  a  man  of  your  race  left,  it  will  not 
stop  —  it  shall  not  stop,"  she  said,  in  her  hot  anger  fail- 


VISITING    THE    SIN  151 

ing  to  observe  the  stricken  expression  on  the  face  before 
her.  "Yoti'll  not  escape  it  if  he  did." 

"No,  I  shain't  escape  hit,"  he  said.  "I  hain't  ex- 
pectin'  to  escape  hit.  The  visitin'  will  come." 

"  Yes,  it  will  come,"  she  said,  and  swept  past  him  into 
the  daylight. 

And  in  the  blindness  of  her  anger  she  mistook  the 
sorrow  upon  the  man's  face  for  sullen  defiance,  and  went 
away  with  the  anger  yet  blazing. 

And  Abner  stood  in  the  bare  room,  with  head  bowed. 

"The  visitin's  comin',"  he  said  after  a  long,  horror- 
filled  silence.  "The  sins  o'  the  fathers!  Thar  hain't 
no  countin'  how  many  thar  is  of  'em." 

When  darkness  fell  upon  the  cabin,  he  was  standing 
there  still. 


152  VISITING   THE    SIN 


CHAPTER   X 

THE  old  house  in  the  hollow  was  far  out  beyond 
one  end  of  the  village  of  Big  Creek  Gap  ;  and  the 
home  that  Naomi  had  prepared  for  herself  lay  at 
the  other  extremity,  only  slightly  removed  from  the 
mountain  pass  itself.  Nearly  two  miles  of  road  were 
between,  but  distance  was  annihilated  to-night.  As  the 
girl  passed  from  Abner  Poteet's  gate,  she  knew  nothing 
of  time  or  space.  Heart  and  brain  were  full  of  the 
past.  The  pity  of  it  filled  her  with  horror  as  it  had 
never  done  before. 

"He  had  years  of  life  in  him,"  she  said ;  and  there 
was  a  sob  in  her  voice. 

Every  feeling  within  her  rose  up  in  indignation  against 
the  big  house  and  its  owner.  To  her  that  long,  solid 
building  seemed  the  impersonation  of  the  violent  wick- 
edness that  had  robbed  her  father  of  his  life,  blotted  out 
a  noble,  useful  manhood,  and  left  in  its  place  a  great, 
silent,  ghostly  thing  that  stood  for  nothing  but  greed 
and  the  triumph  of  evil  over  good. 

"And  he  was  never  punished,"  she  said,  with  the  bit- 
ter feeling  that  the  deed  was  the  more  cruel  for  the 
escape  of  the  perpetrator. 

Human  nature  is  weak.  The  smart  of  a  sore  heart  is 
a  little  eased  by  the  knowledge  that  the  hand  that  dealt 
the  blow  is  itself  a  partaker  of  the  pain.  And  if  no  such 
weakness  existed,  there  is  yet  an  innate  sense  of  justice, 
a  rebellion  against  the  triumph  of  wrong,  that  calls  for 
the  punishment  of  the  evil-doer.  Justice  utters  her 
protest  against  letting  the  violent  man  carry  out  his 
evil  designs  with  a  high  hand ;  and  if  vengeance  adds 


VISITING   THE    SIN  153 

to  the  volume  of  the  outcry,  the  fact  is  not  altogether 
strange. 

To  Naomi  there  was  something  unnatural,  something 
that  savoured  of  treachery  towards  her  father,  in  letting 
the  crime  lie  buried,  unacknowledged  and  unpunished. 
The  overflowing  life  of  which  he  had  been  defrauded 
could  not  be  wrested  from  the  hand  of  the  murderer  and 
given  back  to  its  owner,  but  justice  could  at  last  be 
allowed  to  speak. 

"Why  should  the  memory  of  Kennedy  Poteet  be 
spared,  and  his  son  enjoy  unhindered  the  fruits  of  his 
blackest  crimes  ? "  she  asked  herself.  "  His  name  can 
at  least  be  dragged  through  the  mire  of  his  own  mak- 

ing." 

She  had  no  longer  the  shadow  of  a  doubt  that  she 
had  traced  her  father's  life  to  its  last  step.  There  only 
remained  the  finding  of  definite  proofs  of  the  guilt  of 
the  innkeeper.  This  might  or  might  not  be  a  difficult 
matter.  It  was  in  any  case  the  next  point  to  be 
aimed  at. 

And  when  that  should  be  accomplished?  Naomi 
asked  herself  the  question,  and  left  it  unanswered. 
Only  into  her  face  there  came  a  look  that  few,  perhaps, 
had  seen  there  before.  It  was  as  if  every  feature  hard- 
ened into  stone,  and  the  whole  became  an  image  of 
wrath.  Forgiveness  is  a  virtue  not  easy  of  cultivation 
by  the  fearless,  self-reliant,  passionate  nature ;  and 
there  are  times  when  the  need  of  it  is  not  quite  self- 
evident. 

Naomi  did  not  know  whether  her  feet  lagged  or  has- 
tened over  the  stretch  of  dusty  road  that  presently 
brought  her  to  her  own  door  and  to  a  waiting  figure 
without  it.  In  truth  she  had  come  quickly. 

"  Has  Big  Creek  Gap  transgressed  beyond  forgiveness 
that  you  leave  it  in  blackest  night  by  turning  your  face 
away  from  it  ? "  asked  the  mill  owner.  "  I  felt  the  chill 


I54  VISITING   THE    SIN 

before  ever  I  reached  the  house.  Dalbert  was  more 
prosaic.  He  went  to  work  to  rekindle  the  fire,  which 
had  died  out." 

"  On  the  principle  that  ary  light  is  better  than  none," 
responded  Naomi,  looking  at  the  mill  owner  with  eyes 
that  were  uncomprehending. 

"The  fires  are  not  all  dead,"  said  the  young  man 
significantly,  returning  the  gaze. 

The  girl  passed  him,  and  went  into  the  house. 

"  Was  anything  amiss  ? " 

Dalbert  snapped  a  dry  bough  across  his  knee,  and 
looked  up  at  his  sister. 

"I've  been  to  Kennedy  Poteet's  house,"  she  said. 

"Oh!" 

Answer  and  exclamation  were  full  of  meaning. 

"He  did  it,"  continued  the  girl,  in  a  low,  tense  tone. 
"We  have  come  to  the  end  of  our  search.  I  was 
right"— 

"That's  tolerable  certain.  You  always  are.  I'll 
swear  to  that." 

The  mill  owner  had  followed  Naomi  into  the  kitchen. 
He  had  failed  to  catch  the  suppressed  excitement  in  the 
low-spoken  words.  He  had  only  heard  the  last  of  them. 

"Of  course  I  am,"  replied  the  girl,  struggling  to 
throw  off  her  oppression  and  speak  lightly,  "  even  when 
I  let  the  fire  aout  at  supper-time." 

"Even  then,"  answered  the  young  man,  drawing 
nearer.  "  Miss  Mozingo,  Dal  asked  me  to  share  that 
supper.  It  was  a  real  charity." 

"  Or  will  be  when  you  get  it,"  retorted  Naomi. 

"I  can  wait,"  he  said  complacently.  "And  I  don't 
care  how  long  —  now." 

He  did  not  add  that  Dalbert  had  had  little  choice 
about  the  asking. 

Neither  the  brother  nor  sister  had  afterwards  any 
clear  recollection  of  the  preparing  of  that  supper.  It  is 


VISITING   THE    SIN  155 

safe  to  say  that,  if  the  mill  owner  had  not  been  there, 
it  would  never  have  been  prepared.  Visions  of  the  past 
were  crowding  in  Naomi's  brain.  Anger  and  pity  and 
sorrow  struggled  together,  but  the  anger  was  ever  up- 
permost. For  the  first  time  since  she  came  to  Big 
Creek  Gap  she  was  impatient  of  Will  Hollingsworth's 
presence.  She  wanted  to  talk  to  her  brother,  to  be  left 
to  decide  upon  the  next  step.  She  was  in  a  hurry  to 
take  that  step.  She  wondered  how  she  could  have 
waited  so  long  before  making  inquiries. 

She  was  conscious  that  Dalbert's  eyes  were  following 
her,  but  she  refused  to  meet  them.  The  young  man 
watched  her  anxiously.  He  felt  his  own  heart  beating 
irregularly.  In  spite  of  the  strong  curb  his  sister  had 
put  upon  her  excitement  he  heard  it  in  every  tone  of 
her  voice.  What  had  she  found  in  the  old  house  to  put 
that  dangerous  light  in  her  eyes  ? 

Dalbert's  was  not  the  only  gaze  that  followed  the  girl 
closely.  The  mill  owner  watched  her  with  curiosity 
and  satisfaction. 

"  Do  you  know  I'm  powerful  jealous  of  Dal,"  he  said. 
"  He  isn't  plumb  forced  to  say  '  Miss  Mozingo '  every 
time  he  speaks.  I  want  his  privileges." 

Naomi  stopped  in  her  walk  across  the  room,  and 
looked  at  him  coolly. 

"  There  is  nothing  to  hinder  you  from  enjoying  them 
—  with  your  own  sisters,"  she  said. 

"  You  are  robbing  the  privilege  of  its  attraction,"  he 
laughed.  "  I'm  not  powerful  tempted  in  that  direction. 
It's  somebody  else's  sister  who  is  the  temptation." 

"Temptations  were  made  to  be  resisted,"  she  said. 

"Are  you  plumb  sure  ?  "  he  asked.  "  It  takes  a  sight 
of  self-control  to  resist  some  of  them." 

"  Self-control  is  a  tolerable  useful  virtue,"  she  replied 
gravely.  "  I  believe  you  need  exercise  one  form  of  it 
no  longer.  Supper  is  ready  at  last." 


156  VISITING   THE    SIN 

It  was  when  the  meal  was  fairly  in  progress  that  the 
mill  owner  turned  to  his  hostess. 

"  Miss  Mozingo,"  he  said,  "  did  you  contemplate  leav- 
ing Big  Creek  to  its  fate  ?  My  first  glimpse  of  you  was 
from  the  hill  yonder.  You  were  coming  along  the  road 
with  haste  suggestive  of  repentance." 

"  I  was  later  than  I  knew.  I  had  been  as  far  as  the 
big  house  in  the  hollow,"  said  Naomi,  in  a  tone  that  was 
drier  than  usual. 

"  What  ?  The  old  inn  ?  And  did  that  ghostly  place 
prove  so  plumb  attractive  that  you  forgot  everything 
else?" 

"  Attractive  ? "  she  said,  lifting  towards  him  eyes  that 
shone  with  a  peculiar  light.  "Is  there  ary  attraction  in 
the  house  of  a  murderer  ? " 

He  looked  at  her  curiously. 

"  Old  Kennedy  Poteet  hadn't  ary  too  good  a  charac- 
ter, so  they  say,"  he  responded  meditatively. 

"He  was  a  murderer  who  cheated  justice  by  dying 
before  a  rope  could  be  got  round  his  neck  ! " 

The  words  came  with  slow,  measured  force,  that 
thrilled  through  Dalbert's  brain  and  set  his  nerves  vi- 
brating. The  mill  owner  was  differently  affected. 

"Did  he?  That  was  powerful  mean  of  him,"  he 
said. 

His  laughing  eyes  were  seeking  those  of  the  girl. 
When  they  met  them,  the  laughter  faded  out. 

"He  sneaked  aout  of  this  world  unpunished  because 
there  was  not  a  man  in  Big  Creek  Gap  who  had  courage 
enough  to  unearth  his  villainy,"  continued  Naomi. 

The  young  man  leaned  over  suddenly,  and  touched  her 
hand.  It  was  shaking. 

"His  punishment  or  escape  doesn't  make  a  sight 
of  difference  to  u-us,"  he  said.  "The  old  sinner  is 
gone." 

"  Doesn't  it  ?     It  would  make  a  difference  to  me  to 


VISITING   THE    SIN  157 

know  that  he  would  hang  for  his  crimes.  If  he  had 
killed  your  father,  you  would  think  differently." 

The  low-spoken  words  acted  like  a  shock  of  electricity. 

«  Naomi ! " 

She  did  not  notice  that  the  same  word  fell  from  both 
lips.  Dalbert  did. 

"  It  is  true,"  she  said  passionately.     "  He  killed  him." 

"Are  you  sure  ?"  asked  Dalbert,  in  a  low  voice. 

He  was  still  reluctant  to  believe  that  his  father  had 
met  his  death  through  foul  play.  Naomi's  words  fell 
on  his  heart  like  a  blow.  He  could  not  lose  the  horror 
in  indignation  against  the  perpetrator  of  the  outrage. 
Vengeance  was  in  his  case  no  easer  of  pain. 

"  Sure  ? "  she  said  impatiently.  "  What  more  do  you 
want?  He  came  to  this  place  —  he  was  seen  in  that 
house.  He  sold  his  mules  there,  and  was  never  seen 
again." 

The  hand  that  had  chosen  to  remain  in  contact  with 
Naomi's  gave  sympathetic  pressure. 

"  Who  told  you  ? "  asked  Dalbert. 

"An  old  woman  who  lives  opposite,"  replied  the  girl. 
"  She  saw  him,  and  remembered  him  well.  He  stayed 
longer  than  the  rest  of  them  because  a  mule  was  sick. 
She  heard  that  he  parted  with  his  mules  to  a  man  who 
was  travelling  south.  Up  to  that  point  all  is  plain. 
After  that  —  when  the  money  was  in  his  possession, 
when  he  and  Kennedy  Poteet  were  alone  in  that  house  — 
he  disappeared  from  Big  Creek  Gap  —  and  from  the 
world." 

The  low,  vibrating  voice  broke  at  the  last  words. 
There  was  an  answering  pressure  from  the  hand  that 
touched  hers. 

"  But  how  do  you  know  that  he  was  killed  ? "  asked 
Dalbert,  hoarsely. 

"  Do  live  men  vanish  without  cause  ?  Would  he  desert 
his  children  and  live  ?  " 


158  VISITING   THE    SIN 

She  turned  scornful  eyes  upon  him.  He  shook  his 
head.  He  did  not  want  to  believe,  but  conviction  was 
forcing  itself  upon  him. 

"  She  may  be  wrong,"  he  said  after  a  short,  painful 
silence.  "  Has  she  ary  reason  to  suppose  that  he  was  — 
murdered  ? " 

The  last  word  came  reluctantly. 

"  She  did  not  suppose  it,"  replied  the  girl  impatiently. 
"  She  had  not  sense  enough.  Nobody  supposed  any- 
thing. There  was  nobody  to  suppose  —  if  there  had 
been,  Kennedy  Poteet  could  not  have  carried  out  his 
rascality.  If  there  had  been  man  or  woman  in  Big  Creek 
Gap  that  had  either  sense  or  care,  he  would  have  been 
alive  to-day." 

This  time  Naomi  became  conscious  of  the  touch  of 
the  mill  owner's  hand,  and  drew  her  own  away.  He 
looked  at  her  reproachfully. 

"  I  wish  I  had  been  at  Big  Creek  then,"  he  said. 
"  But  now  ?  What  can  I  do  to  help  you  ?  " 

She  did  not  notice  the  slight  stress  on  the  "  I."  Her 
thoughts  were  going  beyond  the  mill  owner. 

"  The  first  thing  is  to  prove  it,"  she  said.  "  /  know 
he  did  it,  but  it  must  be  proved  beyond  a  doubt.  And 
then  "— 

"  What  then  ? "  asked  the  young  man.  "  The  old 
rascal  has  made  himself  secure  by  taking  himself  off  the 
scene  of  action." 

"  He  didn't  take  his  name  with  him  —  nor  his  family," 
said  the  girl. 

Will  Hollingsworth  caught  the  fierceness  —  only  half 
suppressed  —  in  her  tone. 

"  Family  ?  "  he  rejoined  reflectively.  "  Why,  the  old 
thief  hasn't  a  family  —  unless  you  count  Ab." 

"He  has  a  son,"  she  replied  coldly. 

"  Yes, —  Ab.  But  nobody  thinks  of  Ab  as  belonging 
to  the  old  man.  He's  a  powerful  harmless  feller,  is 
Ab." 


VISITING   THE    SIN  159 

"  He's  his  father's  son,"  she  said. 

"  Yes,  and  a  plumb  bad  job  it  is  for  him." 

"  And  a  plumb  bad  job  it  is  likely  to  be !  " 

Both  men  started  at  the  passion  in  her  words.  Neither 
quite  understood  how  deeply  she  had  been  stirred  by  the 
old  woman's  recital,  and  by  the  proximity  of  the  house 
where  to  her  excited  imagination  the  deed  of  cruelty 
almost  visibly  lingered.  It  was  Dalbert  who  answered 
her  words. 

"  I  don't  think  you'll  find  that  this  Abner  Poteet  had 
ary  thing  to  do  with  it,  even  if  —  what  you  think  is  true," 
he  said.  "  I've  seen  the  man.  He  doesn't  seem  to  me 
to  be  one  who  has  either  committed  or  profited  by  a 
crime." 

"How  could  he  help  profiting  by  his  father's  ras- 
cality ?  "  retorted  Naomi.  «  His  father  was  a  murderer 
and  a  thief —  and  he  is  his  father's  son.  What  right  has 
he  to  expect  that  men  will  not  visit  his  father's  sins  on 
his  head  ? " 

"  I  reckon  he  don't  expect  anything,"  laughed  the 
mill  owner.  "  Ab  ain't  the  sort  to  have  expectations  in 
ary  one  way." 

"  He  knew  better  than  to  deny  his  father's  guilt," 
said  the  girl  quietly. 

"  What  ?     You  have  seen  him  ? " 

Something  approaching  consternation  was  in  Dalbert's 
voice.  He  was  still  indulging  the  hope  that  there  was 
a  mistake,  that  the  old  woman's  story  could  be  refuted. 
His  sister's  prompt  measures  looked  to  him  rash. 

"  Yes.  I  have  seen  him,"  said  Naomi,  and  there  was 
a  challenge  in  the  words. 

They  sat  looking  at  each  other ;  that  is  to  say,  Dal- 
bert and  the  mill  owner  were  looking  at  Naomi,  and  her 
eyes  met  theirs,  though  it  is  doubtful  whether  they 
brought  her  any  clear  impression  from  without.  As  for 
the  mill  owner,  he  saw  nothing  but  the  girl  whose  eyes 


160  VISITING   THE    SIN 

flashed  and  kindled  and  grew  cold  only  to  light  up  again 
with  indignant  passion.  He  had  never  seen  her  face 
more  beautiful  than  now,  with  the  passion  and  the  sor- 
row disturbing  its  calm.  It  had  hitherto  been  too  well 
under  control,  too  impregnable  to  satisfy  him.  To-night 
he  saw  it  in  a  new  light. 

"Well?"  said  the  girl  at  last;  and  the  word  was  a 
challenge. 

"  We  have  got  to  prove  that  he  did  it,"  said  Dalbert, 
in  quick  answer  to  that  questioning  word. 

"Yes  —  it  may  not  be  easy,"  she  said.  "But  it 
would  be  a  sight  harder  to  prove  that  he  didn't." 

"There's  a  powerful  lot  of  truth  in  tha-at,"  broke  in 
the  mill  owner,  with  a  short  laugh. 

His  eyes  were  searching  Naomi's.  He  waited  until 
his  gaze  drew  hers  to  meet  it.  Then  he  echoed  her 
word. 

"  Well  ?  "  he  said  questioningly. 

"  Are  his  children  to  leave  his  death  unavenged  ? " 
she  asked,  and  there  was  a  break  in  the  rich,  low  voice. 
"Is  nary  thing  to  be  done  to  bring  the  punishment 
where  it  ought  to  fall  ? " 

"  Where  is  that  ? "  demanded  the  young  man. 

"  On  the  kin  of  the  murderer, —  on  those  who  profited 
by  his  crimes,"  she  said  hotly. 

"  Whatever  Naomi  Mozingo  says,  7  will  do,"  he 
answered. 

She  looked  at  him  for  a  moment  in  silence.  "  It's 
Dai's  work,"  she  said  coldly.  "  It's  his  boy  and  girl 
who  should  avenge  him,  not  strangers." 

"Am  I  a  stranger  ? "  he  asked  reproachfully.  "  There 
is  plenty  for  Dal  to  do.  But  you  want  an  outside 
helper." 

She  did  not  answer.  His  eyes  were  looking  into  hers.. 
Her  own  did  not  change  from  their  passionate  glow, 
though  they  met  the  others  squarely. 


VISITING   THE    SIN  161 

"  Is  it  a  compact  ? "  he  asked  after  another  silence. 

"  What  ? " 

"  That  you  will  give  me  the  privilege  of  being  your 
agent,  and  that  I  will  carry  aout  your  behests,  let  them 
be  what  they  will." 

"  Don't  be  a  fool,  Will ! "  broke  in  Dalbert  impatiently. 
"My  sister  is  upset  by  what  she  has  heard.  She 
doesn't  know  what  she  does  want.  This  is  not  a  thing 
to  be  entered  on  hastily." 

"  Then  I  will  wait  till  she  finds  aout,"  said  the  mill 
owner,  and  this  time  he  did  not  laugh. 

Dalbert  rose  hastily. 

"  Naomi  is  right,"  he  said.  "  This  work  is  for  me,  if 
for  anybody.  And,  so  far  as  finding  aout  the  truth  of 
the  old  woman's  tale  is  concerned,  it  has  got  to  be  done. 
For  the  rest,  there  is  time  enough  to  decide  when  we 
have  proof." 

Will  Hol?rigsworth  ignored  the  words.  He  was  still 
looking  at  Naomi. 

"Is  it  a  compact  ? "  he  asked  again. 

She  hesitated,  and  then  stretched  out  her  hand. 

"  If  you  will,"  she  said. 

He  held  the  hand  for  a  minute,  and  stood  looking  at 
the  girl. 

"Did  you  ever  hear  of  the  bone  cave?"  he  asked 
suddenly. 

"  Yes,"  she  said,  drawing  her  hand  away.  "  What  do 
you  know  about  it  ? " 

"  It  figures  in  stories  about  Kennedy  Poteet,"  he  re- 
plied. "  Ary  search  into  the  doings  of  that  dead  and 
gone  sinner  ought,  plumb  sure,  to  be  begun  there." 

"  Have  you  been  in  it  ? "  asked  Naomi. 

He  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  I  had  no  interest  in  the  doings  of  old  Ken  —  until 
now,"  he  said.  "  Shall  I  take  you  down  there  ?  I'll  be 
accountable  for  the  spirits  that  keep  the  place  select." 


162  VISITING   THE    SIN 

"  What  shall  I  find  there  ? "  she  asked,  looking  into 
his  face. 

"  Bones  —  so  they  say,"  he  replied. 

She  hesitated  barely  a  moment. 

"  Is  it  too  late  to  go  to-night  ? "  she  asked. 

"It's  tolerable  late  —  considering  the  character  of  the 
place,"  he  said,  and  there  was  only  a  glimmer  of  a  smile 
about  his  lips. 

"Then  I  will  go  in  the  morning,  at  daybreak,"  said 
Naomi.  "And  I  will  go  alone,"  she  added,  with  a  glance 
that  was  not  without  defiance. 

"  Better  not,"  he  said  gently.  "  If  ary  thing  should 
be  found,  you  will  need  a  witness.  And  it  will  be  toler- 
able lonesome  down  there.  You  must  not  go  alone." 

"  My  sister  will  not  be  alone,"  said  Dalbert  curtly. 

"The  more,  the  better,  in  that  place,"  replied  the  mill 
owner.  "  Put  it  off  till  eight  o'clock.  The  grass  will 
be  wet  so  early,  and  whatever  is  there  will  'vait." 

His  last  words  were  addressed  to  Naomi. 

"  Where  is  the  bone  cave  ? "  she  asked. 

"  Over  from  the  mill  a  smart  piece, —  within  easy 
reach  from  the  old  reprobate's  house." 

"We  will  go  in  the  morning,"  said  Dalbert.  "I 
don't  believe  we  shall  find  anything  to  pay  us  for  our 
trouble.  I  don't  want  to  believe  it.  It  makes  the  loss 
ten  times  worse  to  think  it  came  so." 

There  was  possibly  hardly  a  resident  of  Big  Creek 
Gap  who  would  have  been  willing  to  enter  the  "  bone 
cave"  after  nightfall,  there  were  not  many  who  would 
have  been  willing  to  enter  it  at  all.  The  place  had  an 
unpleasant  reputation.  A  farmer  who  had  lost  a  sheep 
down  the  uncovered  hole  that  formed  one  of  its  outlets 
had  told  of  bones,  ghastly  and  white,  strewing  the  floor 
in  the  low,  almost  inaccessible  passage  in  which  the 
cave  terminated. 

"And  they  warn't  the  bones  of  no  four-footed  ani- 


VISITING   THE    SIN  163 

mal,"  he  asserted,  when  he  reappeared  at  the  surface  of 
the  earth  with  a  face  that  rivalled  in  whiteness  the  bones 
reputed  to  be  mouldering  in  the  secret  recesses  of  that 
i  underground  place. 

One  or  two  venturesome  spirits  had  since  entered  the 
cave,  and  brought  out  bones, —  human  bones,  they 
averred ;  but  these  were  few  in  number,  and  not  easily 
recognizable.  Nobody  had  possessed  courage  to  crawl 
to  the  end  of  the  low,  damp  tunnel  that  to  all  appearance 
formed  the  extremity  of  the  cave.  Tradition  said  that 
Kennedy  Poteet  had  more  definite  knowledge  of  the 
contents  of  that  cavern  than  had  any  other  human  be- 
ing, but  no  one  was  sure  that  back  of  tradition  there  lay 
any  certainty  on  which  to  ground  the  belief  that  had 
nevertheless  become  somewhat  general  in  Big  Creek 
Gap. 

It  was  not  fear  that  made  Naomi's  hand  a  little  less 
steady  than  usual  when,  a  strip  of  woodland  above  the 
mill  having  been  crossed,  she  stood  in  the  early  morning 
looking  into  the  "bone  cave."  The  thought  of  the  dis- 
covery that  might  be  before  her  was  sufficient  to  account 
for  the  under-current  of  excitement.  The  cave  itself 
boasted  of  nothing  imposing  in  the  way  of  entrance. 
A  well-like  hole,  dipping  straight  down  into  the  earth, 
enabled  her  to  see  into  the  depths  of  this  cavern  with 
an  ill  name.  Rough,  precipitous  sides  promised  little 
help  in  descending,  nevertheless,  Dalbert  was  about  to 
lower  himself  into  the  darkness  when  the  mill  owner's 
voice  stopped  him. 

"  Hold  on ! "  he  said.  "  That  ain't  the  way  old  Ken 
got  in,  if  he  ever  did  creep  into  this  uncanny  place. 
That's  only  a  peep-hole  for  the  free  exhibition  of  the 
wonders  underneath.  You  stand  plumb  still,  Miss  Mo- 
zingo.  I'll  get  in,  and  be  showman." 

A  yard  or  two  beyond,  half  hidden  by  bushes,  he  came 
upon  the  real  entrance  to  the  cave, —  a  narrow,  steeply 


1 64  VISITING   THE    SIN 

sloping  opening,  down  which  a  man  could  slip  more 
easily  than  he  could  walk. 

"  Old  Ken  must  have  held  his  head  a  powerful  sight 
lower  than  usual  when  he  went  in  he-ere,"  said  the  mill 
owner,  as  lantern  and  person  disappeared  between  the 
earth  above  and  the  rock  below.  "  They  say  he  knew 
how  to  keep  it  up  high  enough  at  other  times." 

A  few  seconds  later  he  stood  beneath  the  vertical 
hole,  swinging  his  lantern  around  and  looking  up  at 
Naomi. 

"It  don't  look  powerful  ghostly,"  he  said.  "It's 
nothing  but  a  little  bit  of  a  cave,  that  runs  off  into  a 
mere  burrow  in  the  ground." 

He  walked  on,  the  glimmer  from  his  lantern  growing 
fainter  as  he  went  further  from  the  opening. 

"Are  you  going  down?"  asked  Dalbert.  "There's 
no  need.  You  might  just  as  well  stay  here.  I'll  search 
the  place." 

"  I'm  going  myself,"  said  Naomi ;  and  without  a  word 
Dalbert  preceded  her  into  the  opening,  crouching  low 
and  turning  to  help  her. 

"  Go  on,"  she  said  with  a  short  laugh.  "  I'm  not 
afraid  of  that  slide." 

She  was  at  the  bottom  almost  before  he  had  lifted 
himself  up. 

"  I'm  afraid  the  ghosts  have  been  back,  and  gathered 
up  all  their  belongings,  Miss  Mozingo.  There  isn't  so 
much  as  a  bone  left  to  contend  for." 

The  mill  owner's  lantern  was  returning,  accompa- 
nied by  the  mill  owner.  Even  as  he  spoke,  however, 
his  foot  loosened  a  white  object  on  which  the  rays  of 
light  fell  full. 

"  Mercy  sakes ! "  he  said,  stooping  to  pick  it  up. 
"  One  of  'em  will  be  short  in  some  part  of  his  person. 
He's  left  one  of  his  bones  behind  him." 

He  held  the  white  object   in   his   hand,  and  looked 


VISITING   THE    SIN  165 

laughingly  up  at  Naomi.  After  that  look  the  laugh  died 
on  his  lips. 

"  Miss  Mozingo,"  he  said,  "  there  is  nothing  to  prove 
that  that  bone  was  not  some  cherished  part  of  a  sheep's 
anatomy.  I  don't  believe  you  will  find  anything  in  here 
to  disturb  you  —  or  to  help  you." 

All  the  laughter  had  gone  from  his  voice.  It  was 
grave  and  sympathetic. 

" Perhaps  not,"  she  said.  "  But  we  will  go  in  further, 
and  see." 

They  made  their  way  to  a  point  beyond  which  loco- 
motion was  only  possible  in  its  most  primitive  form. 
Dalbert,  on  hands  and  knees,  was  already  pushing  on. 

"  You  cannot  go  further,"  said  the  mill  owner  to  Na- 
omi. "  You  had  better  stay  here  while  Dal  and  I  make 
investigations." 

His  own  investigations,  however,  had  got  no  further 
than  into  the  expression  of  a  girl's  face,  when  a  pair  of 
heels  came  into  sight. 

"  Here's  Dal  beating  a  retreat,"  he  said.  "The  spir- 
its of  the  cave  have  proved  inhospitable." 

Dalbert  emerged,  very  much  the  worse  in  appearance 
for  his  short  journey. 

"There's  water  in  there  —  deep  pools,  and  a  shallow 
running  stream,"  he  said.  "Looks  as  if  it  might  be 
the  effect  of  the  rain  the  other  day,  but  it's  in  the  way. 
The  roof  gets  lower  as  you  go  in.  There's  nothing  to 
be  seen  that  is  of  any  use  to  us." 

"  No  bones  ? "  asked  Will,  with  a  quick  laugh. 

"  Yes,  there  are  bones,  but  only  odd  ones.  Nothing 
that  could  serve  as  proof  either  one  way  or  another." 

"  Did  you  bring  any  ? " 

For  answer  Dalbert  set  down  his  lantern,  and  care- 
fully deposited  upon  the  floor  of  the  cave  a  double  hand- 
ful of  spoils  from  its  inmost  recesses.  Mud,  rock,  bones, 
—  one  of  the  latter  looking  uncommonly  like  a  part  of 


166  VISITING   THE    SIN 

the  finger  of  a  human  hand, —  a  scrap  of  woollen  cloth, 
and  a  rusty  nail  made  up  the  collection. 

"  I  found  them  in  a  mud  hole.  There  was  nothing 
else  near,"  explained  the  young  man. 

They  were  all  down  on  their  knees,  examining  the 
spoils,  the  suspicious-looking  bone  resting  in  the  palm  of 
the  mill  owner's  hand. 

"  Better  carry  'em  up,  where  we  can  wash  'em,"  he 
said.  "The  spirits  keep  their  belongings  powerful 
dirty.  There's  too  much  mud  on  'em  to  distinguish  — 
What  is  it,  Miss  Mozingo?" 

The  girl's  lips  were  parted,  and  her  eyes  riveted  on 
an  object  which  her  fingers  gripped  tightly.  It  was 
hardly  yet  free  from  the  clinging  mud  from  which  she 
had  rescued  it.  Nothing  but  a  bit  of  mud-covered  rock 
had  been  visible  when  she  first  took  the  lump  into  her 
hand.  Now  the  mass  had  resolved  itself  into  its  ele- 
ments, the  sight  of  one  of  which  had  sent  th?  blood 
from  the  girl's  face,  and  brought  that  awed  look  into 
her  eyes. 

«  Look,  Dal ! " 

She  held  out  the  little  circlet. 

A  thin  band  of  gold,  with  one  insignificant  gem  set 
in  it,  it  was  not  yet  sufficiently  free  from  its  mud  coat- 
ing to  show  the  beauty  of  stone  or  metal.  But  as  Dal- 
bert's  glance  fell  upon  it  his  face  changed.  Some  of 
the  horror  in  Naomi's  eyes  was  communicated  to  his. 
He  took  the  ring  and  rubbed  it  in  his  hands  till  it  was 
free  from  dirt.  Then  he  handed  it  back  to  his  sister. 

"  I'm  going  in  again,"  he  said,  and  his  voice  was  hoarse. 

"  My  father  wore  it.  It  belonged  to  my  mother,"  said 
Naomi,  in  answer  to  the  inquiring  look  of  the  mill  owner. 

Dalbert  had  already  disappeared.  The  face  of  the 
mill  owner  was  grave. 

"  Then  there  was  truth  in  the  tales  they  tell  of  Ken- 
nedy Poteet,"  he  said. 


VISITING   THE    SIN  167 

She  did  not  answer,  and  they  stood  listening  to  the 
rattle  of  falling  rock  detached  by  Dalbert's  contact  with 
the  low  roof.  Listening  thus,  with  thoughts  centered 
upon  that  passage,  it  was  easy  to  mistake  the  direction 
of  a  sound,  as  it  had  been  easy  to  overlook  such  sound 
in  the  last  few  minutes,  when  every  thought  was  ab- 
sorbed by  the  discovery  that  had  been  made.  It  would 
not  have  occurred  to  either  of  the  three  that  any  inhab- 
itant of  Big  Creek  Gap  was  interested  in  the  contents 
of  the  "  bone  cave."  Perhaps  the  keen  eyes  that  peered 
out  from  the  darkness  were  more  interested  in  the  visi- 
tors to  the  cave  than  in  the  cave  itself.  China  Partins 
could  move  cautiously  when  she  chose,  and  she  did 
choose  to-day.  She  had  come  very  close  without  being 
suspected.  Those  sharp  eyes  were  near  enough  to  see 
the  little  gold  circlet  as  it  was  held  in  the  girl's  fingers, 
and  her  ears  had  not  missed  a  word  that  had  followed 
the  discovery. 

There  was  complete  silence  now  in  the  cave.  It  was 
too  dark  in  her  hiding-place  for  the  fact  to  be  evident, 
but  the  old  woman's  face  had  grown  excited.  Her 
breath  came  quicker  than  usual.  She  drew  further  back 
in  the  shadow  of  a  rock,  and  waited. 

"  Here's  Dal ! "  said  the  mill  owner,  in  a  tone  of  relief. 
The  strain  was  becoming  intense. 

"There's  nothing  else  there,"  announced  the  young 
man,  emerging  again  from  the  low  passage.  "I've 
searched  every  inch  of  the  floor  around  the  spot  where 
these  things  were  buried,  and  there's  nothing  more. 
Further  on,  big  lumps  of  rock  and  earth  have  fallen, 
and  the  passage  is  filled  up.  I'll  go  back  yet." 

The  last  words  were  uttered  as  his  eye  fell  again  on 
the  ring.  The  sight  of  it  affected  him  painfully. 

"  No,  let  me  take  a  turn,"  said  Will.  "  I  may  have 
better  luck." 

They  searched  for  hours,  coming  up  into  the  daylight 


1 68  VISITING   THE    SIN 

at  last  with  a  dazed  look  on  their  faces.  On  her  way 
out  of  the  cave  Naomi  unknowingly  brushed  past  a 
figure  crouching  in  the  shelter  of  a  rock.  Was  it  sim- 
ply the  effect  of  the  shadows,  or  had  the  keen  old  eyes 
really  lost  some  of  their  animosity  ? 

No  one  attempted  to  joke  as  they  found  themselves 
again  at  the  surface,  and  stopped  to  look  back  into  the 
gloomy  hole.  The  stories  of  crime  associated  with  that 
cave  had  for  them  moved  out  of  the  legendary  into  the 
real. 

"  Miss  Mozingo,  I  think  I  wish  I  had  not  advised  you 
to  come." 

The  mill  owner  stood  by  Naomi's  side,  looking  with 
grave  kindness  into  the  girl's  face. 

Out  in  the  daylight  the  articles  recovered  from  the 
mud  were  being  examined  with  minutest  care.  The  bit 
of  cloth  was  water-soaked  and  rotted  beyond  recogni- 
tion. It  might  at  one  time  have  formed  part  of  a  man's 
coat.  Naomi's  face,  as  she  bent  over  it,  was  full  of  sad- 
ness. With  the  more  certain  knowledge  of  the  terrible 
wrong  done  to  her  father,  all  tumultuous  anger  was 
swept  away.  The  fierceness  of  yesterday  was  gone, 
effaced  by  a  deep  grief.  But  if  the  mill  owner  were  in 
doubt  as  to  whether  the  girl's  attitude  meant  any  soft- 
ening of  sentiment  towards  the  house  of  Poteet,  her 
words  as  she  turned  to  him  set  that  doubt  at  rest. 

"The  deed  cannot  be  undone,"  she  said,  "but  the 
name  of  Kennedy  Poteet  shall  in  this  valley  rot  like 
that  scrap  of  cloth,  till  men  tread  it,  and  all  who  bear  it, 
under  their  feet." 

There  was  no  passion  in  her  eyes,  nor  anger  in  her 
voice.  It  was  the  cold,  calm  utterance  of  judicial  de- 
cision. One  of  those  who  heard  it  must  surely  have 
been  satisfied,  for  a  pair  of  thin  lips  actually  smiled. 

The  mill  owner  looked  at  the  girl  admiringly. 

"The  fury's   plumb   gone,"  he   said,  as   he  walked 


VISITING   THE   SIN  169 

towards  the  mill ;  "  but  there's  an  avenging  goddess  in 
its  place  that  won't  be  nary  bit  the  easier  to  deal  with." 
"  If  you  du  that,  you've  got  enough  on  hand  to  keep 
ye  aout  o'  mischief  for  one  while,  gal,"  said  old  China 
Partins,  standing  among  the  trees  and  looking  after  the 
brother  and  sister. 


i;o  VISITING   THE   SIN 


CHAPTER   XI 

"T   TIT'S  spelt,  that's  what  hit  is.     Thar  hain't  no 

I — I  use  beatin'  abaout  the  bu-ush.  That  thar  cow 
JL  A  won't  be  no  more  gue-ude  till  you  shoot  the  one 
that's  got  a  grudge  agin  ye." 

Abner  Poteet  stared  into  the  ancient  face  of  the 
speaker,  and  shook  his  head. 

"  Thar  hain't  nary  one  got  a  grudge  agin  me  —  or  thar 
useter  wasn't,"  he  said.  "I  hain't  so  plumb  sure  now." 

"And  you  hain't  no  call  to  be,"  replied  the  woman. 
"  You  hain't  all  a  fool,  Ab,  if  you  hev  done  more  'n  one 
powerful  fool  thing,  and  you  know  thar's  them  that's 
plumb  set  agin  ye,  and  that  through  no  fault  o'  yourn." 

Abner  sighed. 

"  I  hain't  denyin'  hit,"  he  said,  stooping  to  touch 
soothingly  the  head  of  the  cow  that  lay  in  the  old  log 
cow-barn,  refusing  food,  but  every  now  and  again  lifting 
wistful  eyes  to  the  big,  kindly  face  above  her. 

The  cow  was  sick, —  very  sick.  She  had  every  reason 
to  know  it  herself,  and  Abner  did  not  doubt  it.  That 
was  why  he  had  stayed  up  all  night  to  watch  her.  It 
was  morning  now,  and  there  was  no  improvement.  His 
nearest  neighbour,  the  old  resident  who  had  communi- 
cated to  Naomi  her  recollections  of  Kennedy  Poteet's 
guest,  stood  in  the  doorway. 

"  She's  powerful  sick,  Abner  Poteet,"  she  continued. 
"  Thar  hain't  a  smart  sight  between  her  and  death.  And 
that  cow  hain't  a-dyin'  no  natural  death,  don't  you  per- 
suade yourself  she  is.  She's  spelt ;  and  if  you  don't  he'p 
her  afore  long  you  won't  hev  no  cow  to  he'p." 

Abner  shook  his  head. 


VISITING   THE   SIN  171 

"  O  lor !  Mercy  sakes !  "  ejaculated  the  woman. 
"  What's  the  guede  o'  tha-at  ?  You  got  to  stir  yourself, 
Abner  Poteet.  You  got  to  git  shet  o'  the  witch  or  the 
wizard  that's  spelt  her.  You  got  to  fix  kit,  or  you  won't 
never  see  that  cow  on  her  legs  agin.  O  my  lor ! " 

Again  there  was  that  positive  shake  of  the  head. 

"I  cain't,"  said  the  man,  the  patient  sadness  in  his 
eyes  answering  to  that  in  the  animal's  gaze.  "  I  hain't 
goin'  to  du  nothin'  at  all." 

"  You  hain't !  O  lor  me !  Well,  /  dectar  you  are  a 
plumb  fool !  Mercy  sakes  ! " 

She  stood  with  hand  uplifted,  surveying  the  interior 
of  that  log  barn, —  the  central  forms  the  prostrate  animal 
and  the  big,  strong  figure  standing  above  it. 

"  Why  hain't  you  goin'  to  du  nothin',  Abner  Poteet  ? " 
she  asked  impatiently.  "  Hit  hain't  so  powerful  hard  to 
du.  If  you  cain't  guess  who's  done  spelt  that  cow,  I 
can.  Lor  !  you've  only  got  to  dror  hi-im  —  git  his  picture 
as  near  as  you  can.  Hit's  plumb  certain  to  du  for  hi-im. 
You  must  make  a  picture  of  him,  and  set  hit  up  some- 
whars,  and  git  a  piece  o'  silver  money  and  melt  hit  for  a 
bullet.  Lor  !  hit's  powerful  easy.  And  then  shoot  him. 
He  cain't  escape  ye  if  ye  shoot  him  with  a  silver  bullet. 
He'll  be  tuk  with  mortal  pain  jist  whar  that  bullet  goes 
through  him  in  the  picture.  Lor !  I  know  hit !  I've 
done  hit.  He'll  be  a-moanin'  and  a-groanin'  in  his  bed, 
sicker  than  that  cow  inside  o'  twelve  hours.  I  hain't  a 
doubt  in*  hit.  But  you  got  to  hurry.  The  cow's  power- 
ful bad.  Lor  !  she  looks  like  dyin'  plumb  directly." 

"  Yes,  she's  dyin',"  said  Abner  sadly. 

"  Dyin' !  Lor  me !  Hain't  you  got  a  mite  o'  sense, 
Abner  Poteet  ?  Who's  fault  is  hit  she's  dyin'  ?  Who's 
to  hinder  her  from  dyin'  but  you  ? " 

"  /  cain't  hinder  her,"  said  Abner  quietly. 

"  Mercy  sakes !  You're  enough  to  drive  a  woman 
crazy,"  was  the  response.  "  Git  a  piece  o'  paper,  and 


i;2  VISITING   THE    SIN 

I'll  dror  him.  I  done  got  powerful  good  understandiiv 
of  who's  at  the  bottom  o*  this.  Cain't  hinder  her! 
Lor  ! " 

Abner  did  not  stir. 

"  Hain't  you  goin'  to  du  nothin'  ? "  asked  the  old 
woman,  her  voice  rising  shrilly  in  her  indignation. 

Abner  shook  his  head. 

"  Well,  /  dectar !  You're  the  plumb  biggest  fool  I 
ever  seed.  I&oclar  I  feel  like  gittin'  some  silver  money, 
and  meltin'  hit  down,  and  shootin'  him  myself." 

He  turned  to  her  with  a  look  of  alarm. 

"  No,  I  won't  have  him  shot,"  he  said ;  and  he  spoke 
with  decision.  "  Let  the  cow  go." 

"  Then  you  du  know  him,  du  ye  ? "  she  retorted.  "  I 
hain't  powerful  surprised.  And  you  won't  shoot  him  ? 
Well,  I  didn't  think  you  was  so  easy  scart,  Ab  Poteet. 
O  lor ! " 

There  was  a  scornful  ring  in  the  shrill  voice. 

"  He's  a  powerful  sight  more  likely  to  hurt  ye  if  ye 
let  him  alone  than  if  ye  shoot  him,"  she  continued. 
"  He'll  go  on  layin'  spells  on  other  things  beside  the 
cow.  Mercy,  you've  got  to  stop  him.  Thar  hain't  no 
tellin'  what  he'll  do  else." 

"  I  hain't  deny  in'  hit,"  said  Abner. 

"And  you  hain't  a-stoppin'  hit,"  she  retorted  con- 
temptuously. "  Why  hain't  you  goin'  to  shoot  him,  Ab 
Poteet?" 

For  a  minute  there  was  no  answer.  Abner  was  look- 
ing down  at  the  cow.  He  turned  suddenly  and  con- 
fronted the  woman. 

"I  hain't  aimin'  to  make  no  more  sufferin'  in  the 
world,"  he  said.  "  I  hain't  no  call  to  make  hit.  Thar's 
been  enough." 

He  turned  away  again. 

"O  lor  me!"  said  the  woman.  "Hit  warn't  o' 
your  makin'." 


VISITING   THE    SIN  173 

"No,  hit  warn't —  and  hit  hain't  goin'  to  be,"  he 
said.  "Thar's  a  sight  o'  pain,  and  thar's  them  belong- 
in'  to  me  that's  made  a  powerful  lot  of  hit.  I  hain't  no 
call  to  make  no  more,  and  I  hain't  aimin'  to  make  hit. 
The  cow  cain't  die  more  'n  onct,  and  she's  got  to  die 
onct." 

His  hand  fell  softly  on  the  animal's  head. 

"O  lor  me!  Mercy  sakes ! "  said  the  old  woman, 
and  went  out. 

Abner  Poteet's  cow  died  at  noon.  It  was  not  until 
after  then  that  the  man  broke  his  fast.  He  had  not 
left  the  animal  since  the  previous  night.  There  was  an 
added  gloom  on  his  face  when  he  went  into  the  silent 
house.  Abner  did  not  doubt  that  his  cow  had  been 
"spelt."  He  had  never  doubted  that  he  could  remove 
the  spell.  He  was  in  no  uncertainty  as  to  who  was  the 
enemy.  But  he  let  the  cow  die  —  and  he  felt  that  he 
had  lost  a  friend. 

"  Thar's  been  pain  enough,"  he  said,  as  he  stumbled 
over  the  threshold.  "  Thar's  them  belongin'  to  me 
that's  made  consid'rable  more  than  I  can  reckon  up.  I 
hain't  aimin'  to  make  a  mite  more,  not  if  he  is  powerful 
set  on  hurtin'  me." 

Abner  Poteet  was  four  months  older  than  on  the 
night  of  the  preaching.  It  might  have  been  four  years, 
to  judge  from  his  looks.  The  mouth  had  settled  into 
sadder  lines  since  then,  and  the  eyelids  more  often  cov- 
ered the  eyes.  Men  who  met  Abner  now  found  it  nec- 
essary to  be  first  ready  with  the  "howdy."  If  they 
waited  for  his  greeting,  he  was  apt  to  pass  them  with 
eyes  fixed  on  the  ground. 

Not  that  Abner  was  morose.  But  circumstances  had 
changed  since  he  listened  to  the  most  "  powerfully  con- 
vincin'  sermon"  that  was  ever  preached  in  the  neigh- 
bourhood of  Big  Creek.  The  renunciation  of  that  night 
had  been  complete.  Only  once  during  those  four 


174  VISITING   THE    SIN 

months  had  Abner  found  his  way  over  the  pasture  lands 
to  a  certain  little  house  nestling  almost  beneath  the 
shadow  of  the  mountains  which  form  the  long,  straight 
boundary  of  the  valley.  To  Abner  Poteet,  Big  Creek 
Gap  meant  the  environment  of  that  cottage  where  No- 
rah  Felps  lived  with  her  mother  in  the  neighbourhood  of 
the  old  mines,  to  which  men  still  went  occasionally  to 
take  out  iron  ore.  That  unpretentious  dwelling  under 
the  mountain  could  not  claim  to  be  as  commodious  as 
many  another  habitation  in  the  village  of  Big  Creek  Gap, 
but  Abner  was  not  the  only  one  to  whom  it  was  more 
luminous.  For  others  besides  the  son  of  Kennedy  Po- 
teet those  flashing  eyes  and  that  queenly  face  lit  up  the 
cottage  with  a  brightness  not  to  be  found  elsewhere. 

The  gypsy-like  beauty  of  the  girl  had  not  ceased  to 
appeal  to  Abner  Poteet,  but  there  was  something  that 
appealed  more  strongly.  He  would  stand  in  the  day 
dawn  gazing  wistfully  across  the  space  that  lay  between 
his  own  house  and  the  mountain,  his  heart  heavy  with 
longing,  and  then  turn  quietly  away  to  his  work  and  let 
the  day  pass  as  other  days  had  passed,  without  a  sight 
of  the  face  for  which  he  was  thirsting. 

"  She  hain't  never  goin'  to  hev  no  part  in  that  visit- 
in'."  It  was  a  decision  that  was  confirmed  every  time 
he  turned  away. 

Circumstances  had  altered  for  Abner  Poteet  in  other 
directions.  The  old  friendly  relations  which  had  existed 
between  him  and  his  neighbours  of  Big  Creek  Gap  had 
undergone  a  change.  As  the  weeks  wore  on,  Abner 
began  to  feel  the  difference  in  the  attitude  towards  him. 
The  "  howdy  "  grew  off-hand  rather  than  cordial,  and  in 
a  few  cases  was  omitted  altogether.  Men  stood  and 
looked  after  him  when  he  passed,  talking  in  low,  confi- 
dential tones.  The  easy,  friendly  intercourse  through 
which  Abner  had  felt  himself  one  with  the  community 
around  him  was  broken.  Ab  did  not  ask  how  or  why. 


VISITING   THE   SIN  175 

He  felt  the  severing  of  the  bond,  and  the  world  grew 
more  lonely.  He  accepted  the  loneliness,  as  he  accepted 
all  the  consequence  of  his  father's  sins,  without  ques- 
tioning. It  was  no  new  idea  that  he  had  less  claim  than 
others  upon  the  world's  kindness.  It  was  not  until  his 
cow  sickened  and  died  that  he  realized  the  full  force  of 
what  had  seemed  but  occasional  manifestations  of  an 
alteration  in  public  feeling  towards  him.  The  only  dif- 
ference the  knowledge  made  was  that  Abner  withdrew 
more  persistently  from  the  sight  of  men. 

He  did  not  know  that  the  change  dated  from  the  day 
when  a  certain  ring  was  found  in  a  cave.  From  that 
time  the  strength  of  a  girl's  will  was  set  for  the  undo- 
ing of  the  son  of  Kennedy  Poteet. 

For  Naomi  Mozingo  there  were  now  two  objects  to 
be  attained  at  Big  Creek  Gap, —  the  earning  of  sufficient 
money  to  start  the  mill  again,  and  the  avenging  of  the 
death  of  her  father.  The  last  was  the  most  important. 
That  it  appealed  less  strongly  to  her  brother  than  to 
herself  did  not  weaken  its  hold  upon  the  girl.  To  Dal- 
bert,  Abner  Poteet  appeared  the  harmless  descendant  of 
an  evil  sire.  As  such,  he  found  within  himself  no  desire 
to  persecute  him.  Naomi,  however,  saw  in  the  man  the 
son  of  his  father,  and  nothing  else.  She  had  no  personal 
knowledge  of  him,  and  she  desired  none.  It  was  enough 
for  her  that  he  was  the  representative  of  Kennedy  Po- 
teet. That  he  was  worthy  of  the  name  she  never 
doubted.  She  set  herself  to  put  that  name  in  its  true 
light  before  the  people  of  Big  Creek  Gap. 

Though  it  was  a  fact  that  what  Naomi  Mozingo  un- 
dertook seldom  failed  of  accomplishment,  she  had  in 
this  case  the  advantage  of  an  efficient  ally.  Will  Hol- 
lingsworth  was  very  much  in  earnest  when  he  pledged 
himself  to  his  superintendent's  sister  to  carry  out  her 
wishes  with  respect  to  Kennedy  Poteet,  He  had  no 
personal  feeling  against  Abner  Poteet,  but  he  had  a  very 


i;6  VISITING   THE    SIN 

strong  personal  feeling  in  favour  of  Naomi  Mozingo.  If 
the  securing  of  Naomi's  favour  meant  the  undoing  of 
Abner  Poteet,  then  so  much  the  worse  for  Abner  Po- 
teet.  The  discomfiture  of  one  who  was  comparatively 
a  stranger  was  a  small  price  to  pay  for  the  friendship  of 
a  girl  whose  eyes  could  wake  from  their  slumberous 
beauty,  and  darken  and  deepen  as  did  the  eyes  of  this 
girl  while  he  told  her  some  story  of  the  old  days  when 
Kennedy  Poteet  was  yet  a  power  in  the  valley.  He  had 
a  right  to  look  into  her  face  and  read  the  expression  of 
those  eyes.  He  had  earned  the  right, —  was  earning  it 
every  day. 

There  is  an  old  book,  much  despised  and  explained 
away  and  criticised  in  the  present  day,  that  has  in  it 
some  strangely  far-reaching  truths.  Those  five  words, 
"  Seek,  and  ye  shall  find,"  which  to  a  few  old-fashioned 
folk  still  form  a  very  star  of  promise  in  a  spiritual  sense, 
are  an  exceedingly  truthful  statement  of  a  fact  in  prac- 
tical, every-day  life.  It  is  indisputable  that  the  objects 
which  men  seek  —  with  downright  earnestness  —  in  this 
world,  they  rarely  fail  to  find.  It  was  in  dependence  on 
this  principle  that  the  mill  owner  set  himself  to  work 
out  of  the  chaos  of  rumour  and  public  opinion  in  Big 
Creek  Gap  a  vindication  of  Naomi's  attitude  towards 
Kennedy  Poteet  and  his  family.  Not  that  Will  Hoi- 
lings  worth  deemed  that  the  girl's  indignation  called  for 
apology,  especially  after  the  discovery  at  the  "bone 
cave";  but  he  justly  concluded  that  all  details  which 
would  make  more  conspicuous  the  evil  character  of  the 
man  or  his  family  would  be  useful  as  weapons  in  the 
hand  of  Naomi  or  himself,  and  would  rob  the  indigna- 
tion of  that  suggestion  of  revenge  which  might  cause 
zealous  justice  to  be  misjudged. 

It  was  not  hard  to  piece  together  the  life  and  charac- 
teristics of  this  dead-and-gone  rich  man  of  the  village. 
Old  men  and  women  remembered  him  well  in  his  youth- 


VISITING   THE    SIN  177 

ful  strength.  They  were  not  averse  to  airing  their  rec- 
ollections for  the  benefit  of  an  appreciative  listener. 
Wonderful  stories  of  his  fighting  days,  when  it  "  didn't 
take  a  powerful  sight  to  git  Ken's  temper  up,  and  he'd 
as  soon  fire  rocks  at  a  man  as  lueke  at  him,"  were 
poured  into  the  mill  owner's  ear.  Bit  by  bit  the  picture 
of  Kennedy  Poteet  rounded  out,  and  the  man  lived 
again, —  grasping,  overbearing,  money-loving,  good-na- 
turedly jovial  when  not  angered,  spasmodically  generous 
to  his  friends,  and  consistently  dangerous  to  his  enemies, 
—  a  man  to  be  courted  and  not  opposed,  a  violent  man 
when  aroused,  but  a  man  with  a  streak  of  gentleness  in 
his  nature,  or  he  would  never  have  dealt  as  tenderly 
with  the  boy  Ab  as  report  gave  him  credit  for  doing. 

Unscrupulous,  without  doubt,  was  this  former  owner 
of  the  big  house  in  the  hollow.  His  contemporaries  did 
not  deny  that  there  were  ugly  rumours  afloat  about  old 
Ken  ;  but  "  thar  warn't  no  bein'  plumb  sure  whether  thar 
was  ary  truth  in  'em,  and  if  thar  was,  hit  warn't  no 
business  o*  nobody's.  They  warn't  Big  Creek  Gap  folks 
that  was  missin', —  if  so  be  thar  was  anybody  made  away 
with  at  all, —  if  they  had  been,  thar'd  'a  been  a  row. 
No,  Kennedy  Poteet  warn't  always  so  powerful  rich,  and 
nobody  was  plumb  certain  how  he  come  by  his  money. 
He  was  mighty  well  off  when  he  died,  and  the  most  part 
of  his  money  went  to  Ab." 

Naomi's  eyes  darkened  when  Will  repeated  the  words 
to  her.  Her  lips  made  him  no  answer,  but  the  mill 
owner  understood.  Perhaps  his  next  remark  drew  in- 
spiration from  the  depths  of  those  eyes.  He  was  study- 
ing them  as  he  spoke. 

"  A  harmless  fellow  enough  one  way,  that  Ab,"  said 
the  mill  owner  reflectively,  "  but  old  Ken  over  again  in 
another.  There's  John  Kisselbaugh, —  lives  over  the 
valley  towards  the  mountain.  A  mighty  unfortunate 
circumstance  for  John  that  his  furthermost  fields  and 


178  VISITING   THE    SIN 

Abner's  join.  A  pretty  overbearing  feller  is  Ab  some- 
times, or  the  fact  that  John  once  refused  to  unhitch  a 
pair  of  mules  from  a  wagon  when  the  other  asked  him 
wouldn't  have  been  enough  excuse  for  wrenching  the 
great  murderous-looking  whip  from  John's  hand,  and 
laying  it  about  John's  shoulders.  The  mules  come  aout 
of  that  wagon  tolerable  quick,  so  they  say,  and  the  load 
was  tossed  on  to  the  ground ;  and  the  strong  arm  of 
Kennedy  Poteet's  son  and  heir  was  responsible  for  both. 
Sure  enough  Ab  must  have  inherited  something  more 
than  his  father's  wealth,  or  such  things  wouldn't  happen. 
According  to  all  accounts,  he'll  never  be  as  smart  as  the 
old  man,  though.  Ab's  powerful  like  his  father,  so  they 
say,  in  the  swing  of  his  arm  and  the  uncertainty  of  his 
temper  ;  but,  when  it  comes  to  brains, —  well,  everybody 
says  old  Ken  knew  himself  that  his  boy  was  a  failure." 

It  was  no  proof  of  an  excess  in  Naomi  Mozingo  of  the 
least  pleasant  side  of  human  nature  that  Will  Hollings- 
worth  read  satisfaction  in  her  face.  Abner  Poteet  was 
Kennedy  Poteet's  son.  As  such,  the  consequences  of 
his  father's  sins  must  fall  upon  him,  should  fall  upon 
him.  But  it  made  the  retribution  easier  of  carrying  out 
to  believe  that  the  son  was  a  worthy  descendant  of  the 
father. 

That  her  father's  death  should  go  unavenged  seemed 
to  the  girl  a  monstrosity.  No  proper  judicial  punish- 
ment could  reach  the  man  now ;  but  the  minor  punish- 
ments, the  consequences  that  follow  in  the  train  of 
avenging  law  when  she  lays  her  hand  on  a  transgressor, — 
these  need  not  be  remitted.  If  Kennedy  Poteet  had 
paid  the  legal  penalty  of  his  crime,  and  hung  between 
earth  and  heaven,  as  fit  neither  for  the  one  nor  the  other, 
the  stain  would  never  have  been  washed  from  his  name. 
Men  would  not  then  have  received  the  son  of  the  mur- 
derer on  a  footing  of  equality.  That  they  did  so  now 
was  a  proof  that  the  murderer,  and  not  the  victim,  stood 


VISITING   THE    SIN  179 

highest  in  the  esteem  of  the  community.  Until  the 
position  was  reversed,  and  men  acknowledged  the  enor- 
mity of  the  crime  committed  in  their  midst,  until  they 
shrank  in  horror  from  all  connected  with  the  family  of 
Poteet,  Naomi's  task  was  not  even  begun. 

While  a  representative  of  the  house  in  the  hollow  was 
allowed  to  live  in  Big  Creek  Gap,  there  was  no  need  to 
question  whether  moral  feeling  had  been  properly  aroused. 
When  public  opinion  was  fairly  convinced,  brought  to 
an  adequate  sense  of  the  responsibility  resting  upon  it, 
neither  Abner  Poteet,  nor  any  other  connected  with 
Kennedy  Poteet's  family,  supposing  such  were  to  be 
found  in  the  valley,  would  need  urging  to  put  the  strong 
wall  of  the  mountain  between  himself  and  an  outraged 
community.  Until  then  Naomi  would  never  rest. 

That  she  had  not  rested,  but  that  in  her  own  person, 
or  through  Will  Hollingsworth,  her  ready  ally,  she  had 
made  a  fairly  successful  assault  upon  public  opinion  in 
Big  Creek  Gap,  was  proved  by  Abner  Poteet's  altered 
position  in  the  community.  In  the  past  time  it  was 
Abner  himself  who  was  most  fully  conscious  that  he 
was  Kennedy  Poteet's  son.  That  fact  seemed  now 
unmistakably  present  in  the  minds  of  his  neighbours. 
They  had  hitherto  looked  upon  Abner  as  a  weak-handed 
descendant  of  the  determined,  money-grasping  old  man 
whom  they  still  remembered  as  a  power  in  the  valley. 

"  Abner  warn't  up  to  his  pappy,  neither  this  away  nor 
that  away,"  had  been  the  general  opinion.  "He  was 
honest  enough,  was  Ab,  but  —  well,  thar,  he  was 
cur'ous,  tol'rable  cur'ous.  He  warn't  never  jist  the 
same  atter  the  upsettin'  he  got  along  of  his  dad  comin' 
to  bloodshed  with  them  as  was  strangers  in  the  valley." 

They  had  looked  leniently  upon  what  they  considered 
Abner' s  inferiority,  partly  because  he  was  Kennedy 
Poteet's  son,  and  partly  because,  being  his  son,  he  was 
unlike  the  father.  Of  late  all  this  had  changed.  The 


i8o  VISITING   THE    SIN 

valley  had  come  to  regard  Abner  more  particularly  as 
the  son  of  the  innkeeper, —  the  representative  of  the  old 
man  about  whom  discreditable  stories  had  been  told. 

Moreover  these  stories  were  assuming  definite  shape. 
It  was  one  thing  to  listen  to  rumours  about  the  disappear- 
ance of  unknown  travellers,  and  another  to  have  those 
rumours  solidify  and  take  actual  form,  to  make  the 
acquaintance  of  the  victims,  so  to  speak,  in  the  persons 
of  the  son  and  daughter  of  one  of  those  missing  travellers. 
Kennedy  Poteet,  the  rich  innkeeper,  who  might  or  might 
not  have  been  responsible  for  the  depositing  of  the  sus- 
picious bones  in  the  "  bone  cave,"  and  Kennedy  Poteet, 
the  probable  murderer  of  the  father  of  Naomi  and  Dal- 
bert  Mozingo,  were  two  very  different  men  in  the  eyes 
of  the  Big  Creek  Gap  village  folk.  For  Dalbert  and 
Naomi  were  no  longer  strangers  in  Big  Creek,  and  no 
longer,  especially  in  the  case  of  Naomi,  without  influence 
there. 

"  A  powerful  fine  girl,  and  as  handsome  as  a  picture," 
was  the  verdict  of  Big  Creek  Gap. 

The  story  of  the  finding  of  the  ring  had  gone  abroad, 
aided  by  the  mill  owner's  tongue.  It  was  a  tongue  that 
possessed  facility  in  the  art  of  speaking  a  word  in  the 
right  place,  and  the  word  spoken  was  apt  to  be  a  telling 
one. 

To  Abner  Poteet  the  air  of  Big  Creek  Gap  had  grown 
chill. 

"  It's  part  of  the  visitin',"  he  said,  and  went  less  among 
his  fellow-men. 

There  was  one  house  in  the  village  where  he  would 
have  met  with  no  change,  but  to  that  house  Abner  care- 
fully abstained  from  going. 

"  Thar  hain't  goin'  to  be  no  shadder  of  hit  fall  on  her," 
he  said. 

It  might  have  been  presumption  for  him  ever  to  have 
hoped  that  his  life  and  the  life  of  Norah  Felps  would 


VISITING   THE    SIN  181 

blend.  The  girl's  brilliant  beauty  brought  her  many 
admirers.  She  was  a  village  girl  by  birth  and  education, 
and  the  valley  was  proud  of  her.  From  the  time  when 
she  gained  her  first  taste  of  knowledge  in  the  village 
school,  and  in  concert  with  her  companions  shouted  long 
rows  of  spellings  at  a  pitch  that  spoke  well  for  the  lungs 
of  the  future  men  and  women  of  Big  Creek,  the  village 
had  watched  her  with  a  sense  of  pride.  Norah  had  won 
the  distinction  of  being  put  early  into  the  writing  class, 
an  honour  accorded  only  to  those  who  "  could  read  good." 
A  student  might  be  as  old  as  the  teacher  and  as  ambitious 
as  he  pleased,  but  he  would  not  be  placed  among  the 
privileged  few  who  took  writing  lessons  until  the  reader 
and  the  speller  were  mastered. 

The  village  curriculum  opposed  no  unscalable  heights 
to  Norah' s  progress.  Her  black  eyes  had  sparkled  and 
danced  at  the  discomfiture  of  many  a  youth  who  essayed 
to  rival  her  achievements  at  school.  They  had  had  the 
same  sparkle  in  them  more  than  once  since  that  time, 
presumably  at  the  discomfiture  of  those  same  youths, 
when,  grown  too  big  for  the  narrow  seats  of  the  rural 
hall  of  learning,  they  followed  the  girl  to  the  house  by 
the  mountain,  and  again  dreamed  of  conquest.  There 
had  been  no  lack  of  wooing,  but  the  winner  had  not  been 
proclaimed. 

Abner  had  made  no  claim  to  rival  these  more  daring 
spirits.  In  his  own  eyes  he  had  little  to  recommend 
him ;  but  he  went  often  across  the  pastures,  and  Norah 
and  he  were  good  friends.  She  never  used  her  tongue 
to  Abner' s  undoing,  as  sometimes  happened  in  the  case 
of  more  aggressive  suitors.  And  he  was  content  to  be 
near  her,  to  watch  patiently  till  there  was  a  want  he 
could  supply,  to  rejoice  in  the  light  of  her  presence,  and 
dream  happy,  foolish  dreams  of  a  future  in  which  the 
rest  of  the  company  was  missing,  and  only  himself  and 
Norah  occupied  a  world  that  was  all  good  for  her  sake. 


182  VISITING   THE    SIN 

He  knew  they  were  foolish,  those  unreasoning  dreams. 
How  could  they  be  otherwise?  There  was  no  such 
world  of  unclouded  brightness  for  him  while  he  was 
Abner  Poteet.  But  though  the  cloudlessness  should 
turn  out  a  myth,  there  was  Norah  still, —  and  she  was 
good  to  him.  Not  unvaryingly  good,  but  comparatively 
good  at  all  time's.  She  never  drove  him  to  distraction 
as  she  did  some  of  her  other  suitors,  or  sent  him  home 
all  but  resolved  to  shoot  himself  —  or  her. 

There  were  not  lacking  those  who  suggested  that 
Kennedy  Poteet's  money  had  something  to  do  with  the 
girl's  kindness  to  Kennedy  Poteet's  son.  But  everybody 
knew  that  the  only  part  of  Kennedy  Poteet's  wealth  that 
his  son  had  ever  consented  to  use  was  that  which 
belonged  to  his  mother, —  the  little  log  cabin,  and  the 
fields  pertaining  thereto.  He  had  "  nary  wish  to  handle 
more  of  hit,"  he  said ;  and  when  the  big  house  was  shut 
up,  and  Abner  went  to  live  upon  the  small  farm,  men 
shook  their  heads  over  his  obstinacy,  and  gave  him  credit 
for  sincerity,  As  for  those  who  suggested  the  money 
theory  in  explanation  of  Norah' s  kindness  to  Abner,  they 
were  village  maidens  mostly,  and  not  quite  impartial  in 
their  judgment. 

They  had  left  off  speculating  now.  There  was  nothing 
to  speculate  about, —  had  been  nothing  since  the  night 
of  the  preaching.  Abner  had  given  up  his  journeys 
across  the  pasture  lands  and  his  dreams  by  the  cabin 
fire.  That  was  all,  except  that  there  was  an  empty 
chamber  in  the  man's  heart,  and  the  yearning  memory 
of  a  girl's  face  that  would  not  be  put  out  of  his  life. 


VISITING   THE   SIN  183 


CHAPTER   XII 

IN  spite  of  the  discovery  made  in  the  " bone  cave," 
Dalbert's  face  had  brightened  in  the  months  since 
he  came  to  Big  Creek  Gap.  It  looked  very  young 
and  glad  to-night ;  though,  when  the  pile  of  letters  by  his 
side  was  despatched,  he  would  be  as  poor  as  when  he 
turned  his  back  on  Cedar  Fork  valley.  Those  letters 
were  going  where,  just  at  present,  it  would  not  be  ad- 
visable for  Dalbert  himself  to  go ;  and  every  one  of  them 
contained  that  which  was  calculated  to  soften  the  verdict 
of  one  resident  of  Cedar  Fork  valley.  The  letters  drew 
the  young  man's  gaze  with  the  attractive  power  of  a 
magnet. 

"  You're  as  plumb  glad  to  part  with  your  last  cent  to 
that  threatening,  discontented  crew  as  if  there  was  nary 
a  man  in  Cedar  Fork  valley  but  was  your  most  devoted 
friend." 

Naomi's  hand  came  lightly  down  on  her  brother's 
shoulder  as  she  spoke.  She,  too,  was  looking  at  the 
letters. 

"  Yes,  I'm  powerful  glad  to  send  it,"  he  said,  with  a 
smile  and  a  sigh.  "Two  more  batches  like  that,  and 
John  Sharp  will  have  his  mouth  shut." 

"  Are  you  plumb  sure  ? "  asked  the  girl.  "  It'll  take  a 
smart  sight  more  than  paying  every  dollar  you  owe  him 
to  shut  John  Sharp's  mouth.  It  was  neither  reason  nor 
justice  that  opened  it,  and  it  ain't  going  to  be  either  rea- 
son or  justice  that  will  shut  it.  When  John  Sharp  shuts 
hi-is  mouth,  it'll  be  a  si-ight." 

"Well,  he'll  have  no  cause  to  open  it  against  me," 
said  Dal. 


1 84  VISITING   THE    SIN 

"  A  right  smart  of  difference  tha-at  '11  make,"  drawled 
Naomi. 

Dalbert  looked  up  at  her  with  a  smile. 

"  You're  hard  on  John,"  he  said,  "  but  there  'd  be 
less  in  that  envelope  going  to  him  if  you  hadn't  helped 
earn  it." 

"That's  a  tolerable  big  stretch  of  the  truth,"  retorted 
the  girl.  "  I'm  plumb  ready  to  prove  that  nary  cent  of 
my  earnings  went  into  that  letter.  John  Sharp  may 
whistle  for  his  money  for  all  me,  or  swear  for  it,  as  he 
did  the  day  I  left  him  on  the  road  outside  Jellico. 
That  '11  suit  hi-im  better.  He's  a  master  hand  at  tha-at, 
but  he'll  never  swear  dollar  or  cent  aout  of  me.  All 
mine  went  to  the  others." 

"The  pile  was  bigger  for  it,  though,"  he  said,  with 
another  smile. 

She  laughed.  She  was  almost  as  glad  as  he  was  to 
feel  the  burden  of  debt  lifting.  Her  courage  had  never 
failed  her  in  the  darkest  time.  But  it  was  pleasant  to 
see  the  light. 

It  was  pleasant,  too,  to  know  that  she  had  had  a  share 
in  bringing  the  good  time  nearer.  If  old  China  Partins 
had  to-day  pressed  her  nose  against  the  window-pane  of 
the  house  in  the  neighbourhood  of  the  Gap,  the  face 
that  had  awakened  her  anger  would  not  have  met  her  eyes. 
That  house  stood  empty  now,  and  it  was  a  very  new 
structure,  but  a  few  hundred  yards  from  the  mill,  that 
owned  Naomi  as  mistress.  The  mill  owner  experienced 
much  satisfaction  at  the  change,  and  Naomi  was  the 
richer.  It  was  the  mill  owner  who  brought  it  about. 

"Miss  Mozingo,  I'm  powerful  hungry  and  desperate," 
he  said,  as  he  seated  himself  at  Naomi's  table.  "  There's 
inequality  in  things.  Here's  Dal  here  hoggishly  monop- 
olizing advantages  that  other  men  would  give  their  eyes 
to  share.  I  haven't  had  a  decent  meal  since  —  well, 
since  you  let  me  come  here  last." 


VISITING   THE    SIN  185 

"  Which  was  a  right  smart  ago,  wasn't  it  ? "  asked 
Dalbert,  reflectively. 

"Aright  smart!  It  was  an  eternity,"  asserted  the 
mill  owner. 

"  Why,  didn't  Dal  bring  you  home  with  him  y ester 
day  ? "  asked  Naomi  innocently. 

"  Yesterday  !  Miss  Mozingo,  I'll  swear  it  was  as  far 
back  as  the  day  before,"  he  said  tragically. 

"  Was  it  ? "  she  replied.  "  I  thought  Sally  White  was 
a  good  cook." 

"I'm  starved,"  he  repeated.  "Sally  White  ain't  to 
blame.  She  lives  up  to  herself.  And  it's  plumb  sure 
her  punkins  ain't.  Miss  Mozingo,  there's  heaps  of  'em. 
There's  punkins  under  the  beds,  and  punkins  overhead, 
punkins  hanging  in  strips  to  dry,  and  punkins  in  pokes 
with  the  drying  already  done.  It  ain't  the  punkins  that's 
going  to  fail :  it's  the  man  to  eat  'em." 

Naomi's  eyes  lighted  with  mirth,  though  they  tried  to 
look  grave. 

"I'll  never  give  you  punkin  pie  again,"  she  said. 

"I'm  plumb  ready  for  punkin  pie  or  anything  else  — 
here,"  he  asserted. 

He  returned  to  the  attack  later,  when  the  johnny- 
cake  was  removed  from  its  shingle  before  the  fire. 

"  Miss  Mozingo,"  he  said  gravely,  "Sally's  johnny-cakes 
are  made  of  quarter  kernels  of  corn,  and  so  is  her  corn 
bread.  Sally's  that  powerful  saving  that  it  would  send 
her  into  a  fi-it  to  take  her  corn  to  the  mill.  Years  ago 
she  made  her  a  tin  mill,  and  on  that  mill  Sally  grinds  up 
all  the  corn  for  her  corn  bread  and  her  johnny-cake.  I 
ain't  plumb  sure  which  comes  nearest  to  being  worn  aout, 
the  old  mill  or  the  old  hand  that  rubs  the  corn  up  and 
down  inside  it.  I  was  that  put  about  at  last  with  the 
fineness  of  her  meal  that  I  got  me  a  piece  of  tin,  and 
punched  it  full  of  holes.  Then  I  bent  it  over  a  board  in 
approved  fashion.  I  was  tolerable  sure  it  was  going  to 


186  VISITING   THE    SIN 

be  a  surprise  to  Sally  —  and  it  was.  '  Sally,'  I  said, 
'  I've  made  you  a  new  mill  that  '11  grind  tolerable  fine/ 
Miss  Mozingo,  the  pity  of  it !  The  old  witch  took  that 
new  tin  mill,  turned  it  over  in  her  hands,  felt  of  it,  and 
—  dropped  it  into  the  fire.  '  If  my  grindin'  hain't  fine 
enough  for  ary  two-legged  critter  that  comes  trottin' 
inter  this  valley  from  nobody  knows  whar,  and  settin'  up 
to  find  fault  with  cue-kin,  gue-ude  enough  for  them 
that's  a  plumb  sight  better  'n  him,  he  can  get  his  vict- 
uals somewhars  else,'  she  said.  And  I'm  getting 
them,"  added  the  mill  owner,  tragically. 

Naomi  laughed. 

"The  case  is  sad  —  and  desperate,"  she  said.  "  Sally 
is  —  well,  of  a  tolerably  remembering  disposition." 

"She  is"  replied  the  mill  owner,  with  a  long  sigh. 
"  Miss  Mozingo,"  he  added,  "  you  took  pity  on  the  men 
at  Cedar  Fork.  On  your  own  showing,  you  fed  them, 
and  fed  them  well.  I've  a  mind  to  put  up  a  boarding- 
house  in  connection  with  the  mill.  I  wish  you  would 
come  and  take  charge  of  it.  You  and  Dal  shall  have  the 
best  rooms  in  it,  and  I'll  see  it's  made  profitable  for  you. 
I  want  a  boarding-place  where  the  cue-kin'  ain't  so  pow- 
erful fine ;  and  I  know  two  or  three  men,  at  least,  who 
will  be  glad  enough  to  get  nearer  to  the  mill.  If  you'll 
come  and  take  possession,  I'll  have  the  house  up  in  two 
weeks." 

And  he  kept  his  word.  Naomi  hesitated  a  little,  and 
Dalbert  more.  Dalbert  had  no  fault  to  find  with  the 
mill  owner ;  but  the  arrangement  would  bring  him  into 
closer  contact  with  Naomi,  and  it  did  not  please  Dal  to 
see  the  young  man  grow  daily  more  intimate  with  his 
sister.  Expediency,  however,  settled  the  business. 

"  It  '11  take  less  time  for  two  to  earn  the  money  than 
for  one,  and  it's  money  we're  after,"  said  Naomi. 

So  the  brother  and  sister  removed  to  the  boarding- 
house,  and  Will  Hollingsworth  was  happy.  The  change 


VISITING   THE    SIN  187 

made  the  carrying  out  of  his  compact  with  Naomi  so 
much  the  easier.  The  two  had  something  in  common 
beyond  the  ordinary  life  of  the  boarding-house.  He  did 
not  forget  the  fact  himself,  nor  let  Naomi  forget  it. 

It  was  not  a  small  task  the  girl  had  set  herself,  but 
she  was  strong  in  will  and  in  the  justice  of  her  cause. 
Also  there  were  in  Big  Creek  Gap,  as  in  every  other 
community,  internal  elements  that  could  be  brought  to 
bear.  Furthermore  there  was  the  mill  owner,  who  was 
anything  but  a  small  force  in  this  siege  of  public  opin- 
ion. Already  he  had  attacked  the  outworks.  At  the 
very  moment  when  he  was  gaining  corroboration  of  his 
own  and  Naomi's  judgment,  he  was  undermining  the 
foundation  of  the  enemy's  standing.  His  hearty  laugh 
at  the  account  of  some  high-handed  exploit  of  the  rough- 
and-ready  great  man  of  the  valley  had  hardly  time  to 
tickle  the  vanity  of  the  story-teller  before  the  listener 
had  labelled  the  deed  and  the  doer  with  an  appropriate 
epithet,  that  would  not  fail  to  stick  by  reason  of  its 
suitability.  Suggestions,  carefully  worded  and  lightly 
thrown  out,  took  root.  The  story  of  the  cave,  and  of 
Naomi's  discovery  there,  was  told  with  skill  and  effec- 
tiveness. People  began  to  see  Kennedy  Poteet  in  a  light 
that  was  more  penetrating  than  any  that  had  yet  shone 
on  his  character.  It  was  one  thing  to  think  of  him  as 
the  possibly  responsible  party  in  the  disappearance  of 
certain  strangers  who  might  or  might  not  have  provoked 
attack,  and  quite  another  to  see  in  him  the  almost  con- 
victed murderer  of  the  father  of  the  handsome  girl 
whose  face  grew  stern  and  sorrowful  when  the  subject 
was  mentioned  in  her  hearing. 

"  That  girl  was  plumb  fond  of  her  pappy,  and  hit  was 
a  powerful  shame  not  to  let  him  go  back  to  his  young 
uns,"  said  Big  Creek  Gap. 

Men  began  to  remember  that  they  had  always  enter- 
tained something  more  than  suspicion  about  the  doings 


188  VISITING   THE    SIN 

of  the  innkeeper,  and  to  persuade  themselves  that  it 
was  rather  kindness  of  heart  than  dimness  of  vision 
that  had  kept  them  from  openly  denouncing  their 
neighbour. 

And  there  were  not  lacking  in  the  valley  men  who 
had  entertained  a  grudge  against  Kennedy  Poteet  or  his 
son  Abner.  Among  the  best  claimants  to  long  life  and 
indestructible  vitality,  a  good  grudge  takes  high  rank. 
Circumstances  cannot  kill  it,  and  suppression  only  lends 
it  extra  force.  There  was  more  than  one  such  grudge 
ready  to  come  to  the  surface  in  Big  Creek  Gap,  and 
more  than  one  man  in  the  neighbourhood  who  hailed 
the  times  as  propitious  and  Will  Hollingsworth  as  a 
friend.  These  grew  virtuously  indignant  over  the 
wrongs  of  Naomi  and  her  brother,  and  shook  their 
heads  when  Abner' s  name  was  mentioned.  They  agreed 
with  the  mill  owner  that  doves  were  not  to  be  looked 
for  in  eagles'  nests,  and  that  the  talons  would  show 
themselves  sooner  or  later. 

"Thar  warn't  a  more  cur'ous-turned  man  in  Big 
Creek  than  Ab,"  they  asserted ;  "  and  thar  was  no  bein' 
plumb  sure  jist  what  he  was  up  to,  shet  away  in  that 
house  o'  hisn." 

The  mill  owner  shook  his  head,  slapped  the  speaker 
on  the  back,  and  expressed  his  conviction  that  there 
were  some  men  who  couldn't  be  fooled.  Then  he  went 
his  way,  and  left  internal  forces  to  work  in  Big  Creek 
Gap. 

If  they  had  not  worked  effectually,  Abner  Poteet 
would  not  have  felt  the  chill  of  loneliness  wrapping  in 
his  life  as  it  had  never  done  before.  If  they  had  not 
worked,  the  cow  that  had  been  like  an  old  friend  would 
still  have  been  watching  for  his  coming  in  the  barn ;  for 
the  hand  that  dealt  the  blow  at  her  life  and  Abner' s 
comfort  would  have  hesitated  to  strike. 

Abner  fully  believed  that  his  cow  had  been  "  spelt," 


VISITING   THE    SIN  189 

and  if  his  feet  had  been  at  liberty  to  follow  their  own 
leading,  they  would  have  carried  him  unerringly  to  the 
perpetrator  of  the  deed.  He  thoroughly  appreciated 
the  force  of  his  old  neighbour's  argument  that  he  who 
had  worked  this  harm  would  work  more.  But  he  would 
not  take  the  suggested  revenge.  "  The  son  of  Kennedy 
Poteet  had  no  call  to  make  ary  more  pain.  Thar  'd  been 
enough."  He  withdrew  more  persistently  from  the 
sight  of  men,  and  the  weeks  drifted  into  a  new  year, 

"  A  tol'rable  dark  night  "  was  making  it  evident  that 
there  was  rain  in  the  wind.  Big  Creek  men-folk  were 
cleaning  their  guns.  Those  who  worked  at  the  mill 
decided  to  take  the  guns  along  to-morrow.  "  If  hit 
come  on  to  rain,  hit  would  be  a  powerful  good  time  for 
squirrel-shootin',  and  the  work  would  hev  to  wait." 
Men  who  did  not  work  at  the  mill  prepared  for  a  good 
day's  sport. 

Abner's  gun  stood  in  its  accustomed  place  behind  the 
door ;  that  is  to  say,  it  would  be  behind  the  door  when 
the  door  stood  open.  To-night  it  was  shut,  and  the  gun 
in  full  sight.  There  was  no  temptation  to  leave  the 
door  open.  Neighbours  were  scattered  and  few,  and 
still  fewer  were  those  who  would  be  likely  to  brave  the 
darkness  to  seek  speech  with  the  innkeeper's  son. 

A  bright  fire  blazed  on  the  hearth.  In  all  Big  Creek 
Gap  there  was  not  a  man  as  lavish  as  Abner  in  the 
matter  of  firewood  —  for  use  after  dark.  While  daylight 
lasted,  Abner  was  as  frugal  as  his  neighbours  ;  but,  when 
darkness  drifted  down  upon  the  fields  and  dwellings, 
Abner's  fire  sent  up  a  spurt  of  flame.  "  Hit  was  com- 
pany," he  explained,  "to  hev  a  plumb  good  fire  atter 
dark." 

A  cheery  fire  and  a  bolted  door  stood  between  Abner 
and  the  grim  darkness  without.  Grim  without  relief 
was  the  dark,  mystery-haunted  outside  world  after  sunset 
to  the  big,  simple-hearted  man  shut  within  the  log  house. 


190  VISITING   THE    SIN 

It  would  have  taken  a  strong  arm  and  a  fierce  nature  to 
make  Abner  quail  before  any  of  his  fellow-men,  though 
a  keen  sense  of  his  own  ill-desert  as  the  son  of  Kennedy 
Poteet  could  make  him  over-modest  in  their  presence; 
but  the  forms  and  forces  with  which,  for  him,  that 
unknown,  unexplainable  darkness  was  filled,  were  power- 
ful with  horrible  possibilities.  Weird  stories  of  witches 
and  ghosts  had  haunted  his  memory  from  childhood. 
The  natural  —  meaning  by  that  the  seen  and  partially 
understood  world  around  him  —  was  not  one  bit  more 
real  to  him  than  that  which  normally  was  unseen,  but 
which,  in  his  belief,  might  at  any  moment  appear,  and, 
seen  or  unseen,  was  always  past  understanding. 

The  unseen,  but  never  unfelt  world  beyond  his  com- 
mon, every-day  life,  was  to  Abner  a  pressing  reality.  A 
nature  morbidly  sensitive  to  every  suggestion  of  another 
world,  a  mind  stored  with  the  thrilling  traditions  of  the 
mountain  sides,  a  conscience  sleepless  and  exacting,  a 
heart  that  craved  after  the  eternal  goodness,  which  to 
Abner  took  the  form  of  eternal  justice,  left  the  man 
trembling  in  the  conscious  presence  of  the  unseen. 
Other  men  believed  passively  in  spirits  and  in  witches 
and  in  supernatural  manifestations  :  Abner5 s  belief  lived. 
For  him  the  darkness  was  peopled,  and  the  terrors  of  a 
future  world  and  the  terrors  of  that  which  was  present 
blended.  Above  him  was  the  God  of  whose  purposes 
and  government  he  had  but  a  distorted  knowledge,  and 
whom  he  yet  believed  that  he  knew,  around  him  the  in- 
fluences of  which  he  had  heard,  but  which  he  could 
neither  understand  nor  escape  from.  And  between 
them  was  the  man,  filled  with  a  tender  personality,  per- 
meated by  a  boundless  humility,  dominated  by  a  desire 
to  serve  God  and  men,  but  overwhelmed  with  a  sense 
of  vicarious  guilt  and  personal  helplessness. 

Night,  for  Abner,  represented  the  power  of  darkness. 
He  fought  it  with  the  glowing  firelight,  and  with  every 
known  charm  that  could  keep  evil  at  a  distance. 


VISITING   THE    SIN  191 

At  the  present  moment  the  firelight  shone  on  a  tenant- 
less  interior.  Abner  was  in  the  barn,  ministering  to  the 
needs  of  his  mules,  and  talking  to  them  in  low,  caressing 
tones  that  never  failed  of  appreciation.  Perhaps  it  was 
the  sound  of  Abner' s  voice  in  the  barn  that  stayed  the 
footsteps  of  a  stranger,  and  made  him  pause  in  the 
shadow  cast  by  the  log  cabin.  He  must  have  been 
intent  on  assuring  himself  that  the  owner  was  away,  or 
he  would  not  have  gone  softly  up  to  the  uncurtained 
window  and  peered  in.  He  seemed  as  fond  of  the  dark- 
ness as  Abner  was  of  the  light,  for  he  crept  back  into 
the  deep  shadow  and  listened.  In  the  barn  he  could 
hear  Abner  walking  from  place  to  place,  and  by  watch- 
ing the  different  positions  of  his  lantern  could  even  follow 
his  movements.  It  was  when  the  light  had  gone  farthest 
away  that  the  stranger  stepped  out  from  the  shelter  of 
the  building,  and  boldly  opened  the  cottage  door.  The 
blazing  logs  burned  merrily,  throwing  a  gleam  across  the 
imprint  of  a  horseshoe  upon  the  threshold.  Abner  had 
heated  to  redness  the  shoe  of  which  it  was  the  impres- 
sion, and  laid  it  on  the  door-sill,  that,  when  it  had  burned 
a  deep  mark  into  the  wood,  the  foot  of  witch  or  wizard 
might  never  dare  to  cross  it.  Was  the  foot  that  pressed 
the  threshold  now  less  to  be  feared  than  those  which 
the  charm  was  meant  to  restrain  ? 

The  man  was  evidently  not  disposed  to  await  the 
return  of  the  householder,  for  his  movements  betokened 
haste.  Moreover  he  held  his  head  stiffly,  as  if  his  ears 
were  on  the  alert.  A  hasty  glance  round  the  room 
possibly  revealed  to  him  the  object  of  his  search  ;  for  he 
stepped  behind  the  door,  and  then  closed  it.  Immediately 
after,  his  hand  drew  towards  him  the  gun, —  a  cherished 
possession  to  Abner  Poteet.  The  firelight  shone  upon 
the  weapon  and  upon  the  face  of  the  man  who  held  it, 
and  a  couple  of  minutes  passed.  The  stranger  was  well 
in  the  light  now,  and  his  face  was  plainly  visible.  It  was 


192  VISITING   THE    SIN 

a  coarse  face,  with  more  of  animal  life  and  passion  than 
of  manly  vigour  in  it,  one  that  to  the  eye  of  ordinary 
men  acquainted  with  it  would  display  no  prominent  alarm 
signal,  but  that  to  children  and  animals  would  serve  as 
a  warning.  Its  owner  was  engrossed  in  his  examination 
of  the  gun.  He  came  nearer  to  the  fire  for  the  benefit 
of  more  light.  Evidently  the  weapon  interested  him. 

There  was  a  sound  outside.  With  a  quick  movement 
the  man  replaced  the  gun  in  the  corner,  and  walked  over 
to  the  fire.  It  was  a  false  alarm,  however.  Abner  was 
not  coming. 

The  stranger  waited  to  assure  himself  of  the  fact. 
Then  with  three  strides  he  reached  the  door.  Once 
there,  he  paused  long  enough  to  allow  of  a  deliberate, 
satisfied  glance  at  the  gun,  and  a  smile  came  to  his  lips. 
A  minute  more  and  darkness  covered  him,  as  it  had 
covered  him  once  before  —  weeks  ago  —  when  he  crept 
into  Abner's  barn  in  the  dead  of  night.  There  was  a 
cow  in  the  barn  then.  There  was  none  now. 

When  Abner  returned  to  the  house  it  was  as  still  as 
if  it  had  known  no  visitor  in  his  absence.  The  com- 
panionable fire  could  have  told  a  story  that  Abner  would 
have  understood,  but  it  was  dying  down.  He  drew  the 
bolt  of  the  door,  and  came  over  to  throw  more  wood  on 
the  embers.  Then  he  sat  down  to  wait  for  the  reviving 
light,  looking  into  the  fire's  heart  the  while.  He  was 
thinking  of  Norah. 

The  men  of  Big  Creek  Gap  were  right.  The  next 
day  was  wet ;  and  when  it  cleared  there  was  a  time  of 
slaughter  among  the  squirrels.  Every  man  in  Big 
Creek  took  his  gun,  and  went  out.  Abner  Poteet  took 
his  gun  from  its  corner,  and  went  too. 

"  I  may  shoot  me  a  turkey  or  a  deer,"  he  said,  "  but 
I'm  plumb  sure  to  get  me  some  squirrels." 

It  was  not  altogether  strange,  perhaps,  that  his  search 
led  him  into  a  stretch  of  woodland  upon  the  mountain 


VISITING    THE    SIN  193 

slope,  within  the  shadow  of  which  a  man,  coarse  of  face 
and  surly  of  mien,  had  just  passed.  The  farms  of  Abner 
Poteet  and  John  Kisselbaugh  were  contiguous ;  there- 
fore it  was  no  real  wonder  that  both  went  to  shoot  in  the 
same  wood,  for  it  lay  conveniently  near.  But  it  was 
not  quite  so  evident  why  the  feet  of  John  Kisselbaugh 
lagged  till  Abner  approached.  His  "howdy"  was  surly 
enough.  He  had  never  forgiven  Abner  for  coming 
between  the  strength  of  his  arm  and  the  quivering, 
straining  mules,  harnessed  to  a  load  a  third  too  heavy 
for  them  and  deep  set  in  a  mud  hole,  from  which  he  was 
trying  to  extricate  mules  and  load  by  the  torture  of  his 
whip  and  the  terror  of  his  voice.  The  "  howdy "  was 
insolent  as  well  as  surly  to-day.  John  had  never  for- 
given Abner,  but  he  had  hidden  his  animosity,  until 
lately.  There  was  no  need  to  hide  it  now.  Big  Creek 
Gap  had  turned,  or  was  turning,  its  back  on  the  inn- 
keeper's son. 

Abner' s  answer  was  civil,  but  he  passed  on  in  another 
direction.  Presently  a  squirrel  scampered  across  his 
path,  and  stopped  a  few  yards  away  to  look  at  him.  He 
raised  his  gun,  and  pulled  the  trigger.  The  squirrel  sat 
and  stared,  and  no  harm  was  done.  He  tried  again,  and 
the  result  was  the  same.  What  was  amiss  ?  The  gun 
had  never  failed  him  before.  He  let  the  squirrel  escape 
while  he  examined  the  weapon.  He  was  so  fully  en- 
grossed that  he  did  not  hear  footsteps  behind  him  until 
they  were  very  close.  Perhaps  the  huntsman  to  whose 
approach  the  footsteps  were  attributable  did  not  mean 
that  he  should.  As  John  Kisselbaugh  passed  his  neigh- 
bour, he  turned  with  a  savage  leer  on  his  face. 

"  Missed  fire,  didn't  hit  ?  "  he  said  mockingly.  "  You'll 
never  shoot  nothin'  more  with  that  gun,  Abner  Poteet. 
Hit  hain't  no  manner  of  use  for  you  to  try." 

He  passed  on,  and  Abner  stood  looking  after  him. 

"  Hain't  hit  ? "  he  said  at  last,  in  a  low  voice.  There 
was  a  doubtful  ring  in  it. 


I94  VISITING   THE    SIN 

Many  times  that  morning  Abner  tried  to  prove  to  his 
own  satisfaction  that  the  words  of  his  neighbour,  John 
Kisselbaugh,  were  wrong.  Sometimes  the  gun  missed 
fire,  sometimes  the  charge  went  wide  of  the  mark.  At 
noon  Abner  Poteet  returned  to  his  home.  He  carried 
no  game.  Slowly  he  deposited  the  gun  behind  the  door, 
and  stood  looking  at  it. 

"  Hit's  spelt,"  he  said,  and  went  to  the  fire  to  prepare 
his  dinner.  Once  he  looked  towards  the  corner,  and 
sighed.  The  gun  was  almost  as  real  a  friend  as  the 
cow. 


VISITING  THE   SIN  195 


CHAPTER    XIII 

NATURE  is  accommodating  in  her  more  southern 
domains.  Man  being  there  somewhat  wanting  in 
energy,  she  sets  the  streams  to  hew  out  store- 
houses for  his  benefit,  and  to  make  natural  covers  for 
his  water  supply.  In  the  locality  of  Big  Creek  Gap  men 
were  in  the  habit  of  going  to  the  caves  the  water  had 
hollowed  out  for  them  to  fill  their  buckets  and  to  store 
their  butter  and  meat,  as  well  as,  on  occasion,  to  help 
themselves  to  nature's  surplus  of  ice  waiting  on  the 
floors  and  roofs  of  these  same  caves,  and  refusing  to 
melt  long  after  the  air  outside  had  grown  soft  and  warm. 
Not  far  from  the  house  of  Abner  Poteet,  but  in  the 
direction  of  John  Kisselbaugh's  farm,  there  was  a  cave 
that  afforded  cold  storage  for  all  the  meat  and  butter  of 
the  immediate  neighbourhood.  The  stream  that  ran 
through  it  bubbled  over  high,  broken  rock  in  such  a  way 
that  the  water  was  scattered,  and  near  the  mouth  of  the 
cavern  big  ice  cakes  and  pendants  formed  in  the  colder 
nights.  These  remained  for  weeks,  and  so  lowered  the 
temperature  within  that  meat  could  be  kept  longer  there 
than  in  any  spring-house  in  the  vicinity. 

Though  the  cave  was  not  on  his  own  land,  Abner  Po- 
teet had  been  in  the  habit  of  storing  his  butter  there. 
Several  months  had  passed  since  his  cow  died ;  but  he 
had  yet  some  three  or  four  jars  of  butter  made  in  the 
summer,  standing  in  a  niche  in  the  rock.  It  was  Feb- 
ruary, and  the  air  was  warm  and  pleasant  as  Abner  went 
to  the  cave  to  fetch  one  of  those  jars.  He  had  not  yet 
made  up  his  mind  to  replace  the  cow  by  another. 
Where  should  he  be  the  forwarder  ?  he  asked  himself. 


196  VISITING  THE   SIN 

The  same  evil  genius  that  had  laid  a  spell  on  his  gun 
and  his  cow  might  work  again.  When  his  store  of  but- 
ter was  exhausted,  he  could  buy  more.  As  for  milk,  he 
did  without  it. 

He  was  not  surprised  to  find  John  Kisselbaugh  within 
the  cave.  John  had  long  kept  his  butter  there,  but  it 
did  not  often  happen  that  Abner  encountered  him.  To- 
day the  man  was  standing  a  few  yards  in,  talking  to  two 
or  three  others.  They  moved  further  back  as  Abner 
entered,  but  from  neither  one  nor  another  was  any  greet- 
ing forthcoming.  Abner  looked  at  them  for  a  moment, 
and  then  passed  them  and  turned  to  the  recess  where 
his  butter  was  kept.  As  he  did  so,  the  men  came  up 
behind  him. 

"  Whose  butter  have  you  got  there  beside  your  own, 
Abner  Poteet  ? " 

The  voice  was  John's,  and  the  insolent  ring  in  it 
arrested  Abner's  hand  as  he  stretched  it  out  to  draw  a 
jar  of  butter  towards  him. 

"  Thar's  none  too  much  of  my  own,  let  alone  ary  other 
person's,"  he  said,  facing  round  and  fixing  his  eyes  on 
the  speaker.  "  Thar's  no  cow  at  my  place  now,  John 
Kisselbaugh." 

"  More  fool  you  for  not  buyin'  another,  then,"  said  John. 
"  You've  come  in  for  enough  o'  the  old  man's  pickin's 
to  git  you  as  many  cows  as  you've  a  mind  to  want." 

"I  hain't  wantin'  another,"  said  Abner  quietly. 
"  Hit'd  be  powerful  unwise  for  a  man  to  buy  cows  when 
he  hain't  sure  jist  whar  his  enemies  are  aimin'  to  hurt 
him  next." 

He  faced  round  towards  the  rock  again,  and  put  his 
hand  into  the  deep  recess. 

"  Don't  be  in  a  hurry,"  said  John,  in  a  slow,  insolent 
drawl,  laying  his  hand  on  Abner's  arm  as  he  spoke. 
"We-all  are  aimin'  to  see  fair  play.  Hit  don't  foller 
because  a  man's  lost  his  cow  through  neglect  in'  of  her 
that  he's  goin'  to  draw  on  his  neighbours  for  butter." 


VISITING   THE    SIN  197 

"  What's  that  mean  ?  "  asked  Abner,  the  angry  colour 
coming  into  his  face. 

"  Mean  ?     That's  what  hit  means  !  " 

John  swung  a  lantern  into  the  recess,  and  disclosed 
two  jars  of  butter  pushed  behind  the  others.  In  size 
and  make  they  differed  slightly  from  those  in  front. 

"  Are  you  aimin'  to  tell  we-uns  them  butter  jars  are 
yourn,  Ab  Poteet  ? " 

"  No,  I  hain't,"  was  the  reply,  spoken  in  clear  tones. 

"  Oh,  you  hain't  ?  "  sneered  John. 

"  No,"  repeated  Abner,  in  a  louder  voice,  "  I  hairit. 
But  I'm  aimin'  to  tell  you,  John  Kisselbaugh,  that  if 
you  stick  your  butter  jars  behind  mine,  and  want  to 
make  me  aout  a  liar,  hit  hain't  surprisin'  me.  I  hain't 
sure  thar's  ary  harm  you  wouldn't  du  me  if  you  could." 

"  I  hain't  makin'  ye  aout  a  liar,"  sneered  the  other. 
"  Hit  hain't  lyin',  hit's  thievin',  to  take  things  that  belongs 
to  ary  other  person.  Hit's  a  thief  I'm  callin'  ye,  Ab 
Poteet ;  and  hit  hain't  the  fust  time  you've  done  stole 
my  things." 

«  What  ? " 

Abner  took  a  step  towards  him,  his  face  white  with 
anger.  Then  he  drew  back. 

"  You're  a-lyin',  and  you  know  hit,"  he  said  quietly. 

"  Lyin',  am  I  ? "  shouted  John,  who  had  retreated 
hastily  upon  Abner's  forward  movement,  but  was  bold 
again  now  that  it  became  evident  no  personal  attack 
was  meditated.  "  Hit's  likely  I'm  the  liar,  hain't  hit  ? 
Hit's  tol'rable  likely  ary  one  would  believe  I  stole  my 
own  jars,  and  set  'em  behind  yours  jist  to  make  you  a 
present  of  'em.  Hit's  powerful  likely  folks  are  goin'  to 
take  me  for  the  liar  and  allow  you're  speakin'  the  truth. 
Hit  wouldn't  take  long  to  fix  his  character  on  Ab  Poteet, 
the  son  of  old  Ken,  that  all  men  know  was  a  thief  and 
a  murderer." 

There  was  a  moment  of  eloquent  silence  as  the  man's 


198  VISITING   THE    SIN 

loud,  coarse  voice  died  away.  Those  who  were  present 
saw  Ab's  face  grow  red  and  then  pale.  He  pressed  his 
lips  together. 

"  He's  dead/'  he  said,  after  that  momentary  silence. 
"  I  hain't  answerin'  for  him  one  way  or  the  other.  I 
cain't."  Then  after  another  breathless  pause  :  "  I  hain't 
tuk  your  butter,  John  Kisselbaugh,  and  you  know  hit. 
If  you-uns  want  to  call  me  a  thief  because  I'm  his  son, 
thar  hain't  nary  one  to  hinder  you." 

"  Hain't  thar  ?     John  Kisselbaugh,  look  this  away  !  " 

He  did  look.  They  all  looked.  How  could  they 
help  it  ?  The  girl's  voice  and  words  and  person  all  com- 
bined to  make  them  look. 

She  stood  within  the  mouth  of  the  cave,  her  finger 
pointed  towards  John,  her  splendid  eyes  fixed  on  him. 

"John  Kisselbaugh,  say  that  agin,"  she  commanded. 

He  was  silent. 

"Say  hit  agin,  or  else  unsay  hit,"  she  repeated,  like 
an  offended  goddess  of  justice.  "Say  what  you  said 
afore  Abner  spoke  last.  Hit's  a  coward  that  dassen't 
stick  to  his  words." 

John  looked  at  her  apprehensively.  He  had  not  reck- 
oned on  a  skirmish  with  Norah  Felps. 

"Thar  hain't  no  call  to  say  hit  agin,"  he  replied. 
"  I've  said  hit,  and  I  stick  to  hit." 

"Hit'll  stick  to  you  more  like,"  she  retorted  scorn- 
fully. "Lor,  John  Kisselbaugh,  you'd  better  'a  kep' 
your  mouth  shet.  We-all  know  what  you've  got  agin 
Ab.  Hain't  forgot  the  sore  shoulders  he  give  ye  yit, 
hev  ye?  Lor  me,  if  Ab  likes  to  rouse  himself,- he'll 
soon  hev  you  daown  on  yer  knees,  prayin'  for  mercy. 
You  wouldn't  be  no  more  than  a  babe  if  he  tuk  ye  in 
hand.  Castin'  up  dirt  at  his  pappy,  was  ye  ?  Lor,  thar 
wouldn't  be  no  need  to  go  back  to  your  dad,  John,  to 
find  a  thief.  Nary  one  would  want  to  search  so  fur. 
Touch  a  sneak  and  you've  got  a  thief  six  times  aout  of 


VISITING   THE   SIN  199 

half  a  dozen.  Hit's  plumb  easy  to  fling  ill  names  at  a 
dead  man.  He  cain't  answer  ye.  My  lor,  if  he  was 
here,  hit  hain't  John  Kisselbaugh  that'd  dare  show  his 
face.  He'd  fixymt-tt,  John,  and  send  ye  home  cryin'  to 
yer  mammy.  Ab's  too  powerful  big  to  deal  with^0#-». 
He's  afraid  of  breakin'  your  mean  little  neck.  I  hain't 
sure  but  I  could  fix  you  myself.  Hit  would  be  safer  for 
you  to  be  gittin'  aout  o'  this.  Now  then  —  march  ! " 

The  last  words  were  spoken  in  a  different  tone. 
The  drawl  went  out  of  the  girl's  voice.  She  half 
turned,  and  pointed  her  finger  in  the  direction  of  the 
mountain. 

A  shout  of  merriment  went  up  at  John's  expense. 
The  girl  stood  derisively  contemplating  the  man,  in  the 
way  in  which  she  would  have  viewed  some  strange, 
loathsome  animal.  Her  finger  still  pointed  towards  the 
mountain,  and  her  lip  curled. 

He  looked  at  her  for  a  moment,  as  if  weighing  his 
chances  of  resistance,  hesitated,  moved  a  step  towards 
the  opening  of  the  cave,  and  then  turned  on  her  savagely. 

"  Standin'  up  to  the  old  man's  money,  hain't  ye  ? "  he 
said.  "  We-uns  hain't  fools  enough  not  to  know  what 
you  see  in  Ab.  You  hain't  aimin*  to  hev  ary  harm  said 
o'  the  old  murderer  while  you've  got  the  son  and  the 
money  in  hand.  Nary  bit  would  you  look  at  a  great 
fool  like  Ab  if  thar  warn't  the  old  dead  sinner's  hoard 
at  the  back  of  him." 

He  turned  precipitately,  making  for  the  outside  world 
as  fast  as  his  legs  could  carry  him.  Those  who  were 
present  said  afterwards  that  the  legs  shook  painfully. 
It  might  have  been  true  —  for  they  had  reason.  The 
face  of  the  girl  grew  still  with  passion. 

"  Stop,  John  Kisselbaugh ! "  she  said,  in  a  voice  that 
rang  like  coming  vengeance  in  the  culprit's  ears.  "  You 
hain't  goin'  that  away  " — 

Her   voice    ceased.     The   words    died   on    her   lips 


200  VISITING   THE   SIN 

There  was  no  need  to  tell  John  Kisselbaugh  to  stop. 
He  had  been  stopped.  A  hand  with  a  grasp  of  iron  was 
on  his  shoulder,  shaking  him  back  and  forth  like  a  cat 
worrying  a  mouse.  It  stopped,  took  a  deeper  hold  that 
went  to  the  bone,  and  then  lifted  the  coward  from 
his  feet,  and  held  him  kicking  and  swaying  above  the 
ground  as  in  vigorous  jerks  it  almost  shook  the  teeth 
out  of  his  head.  Then  with  a  thump  it  set  him  on  the 
floor  of  the  cave  in  front  of  Norah. 

"  Now,  you  sneak,  unsay  that !  You  can  call  me 
what  you've  a  mind  to :  I  hain't  aimin'  to  stop  ye ;  but, 
if  you  set  your  lyin'  tongue  agin  her,  I'll  " — 

Abner  stopped  short,  with  his  hand  yet  on  John's 
shoulder. 

"I  warn't  aimin'  to  say  nothin'  agin  her,"  said  the 
man  sullenly. 

"  Unsay  what  you  said  !  "  roared  Ab,  giving  the  shoul- 
der a  shake  that  so  nearly  upset  John's  equilibrium  as 
to  cause  him  to  stretch  out  his  hands,  wildly  clutching 
at  space. 

A  shout  of  laughter  met  the  anguished  grasp  at 
nothing. 

"I  —  I  —  wa-ar-n't  —  meanin'  —  no  —  harm.  I  —  I 
—  hit  warn't  true ! "  blurted  out  the  unhappy  John,  be- 
tween the  shakes. 

Ab  released  his  hold. 

"She  told  you  to  go,"  he  said,  with  an  outfling  of 
his  arm. 

John  gathered  himself  together  and  went,  as  quickly 
as  his  shaking  limbs  and  gasping  breath  would  let  him. 

There  was  silence  within  the  cave.  It  was  Abner 
who  made  the  first  movement. 

"  Thar  hain't  no  call  to  take  account  of  every  snake 
that  thrusts  aout  hits  tongue  at  you,"  he  said ;  and  he 
came  a  step  nearer,  and  looked  appealingly  at  Norah. 

"  Hit's  a  tol'rable  crushed  snake,"  she  replied  scorn- 


VISITING   THE    SIN  201 

fully.  "  Hit's  gone  off  with  bleedin'  tail  and  draggin' 
head.  Hit  hain't  powerful  creditable  to  be  led  by  a 
snake,  I  reckon." 

The  last  remark  was  addressed  to  the  company  in 
general.  The  three  men  replied  by  an  uneasy  laugh. 

"  Well,"  she  said,  looking  at  them  with  a  thought- 
fully contemptuous  smile  on  her  lips,  "  like  gits  with  like 
everywhars,  don't  hit  ?  Better  be  runnin'  atter  your 
friend.  He's  powerful  lonesome,  gallopin'  across  the 
fields  to  git  home  afore  Ab  chances  on  his  track." 

"  I  hain't  so  plumb  sure  he's  sich  a  mighty  friend," 
began  one  of  the  men  apologetically ;  but  the  girl  cut 
him  short. 

"  Hain't  ye  ?  "  she  said,  in  a  tone  of  surprise.  "  I  am. 
Why,  lor !  thar  hain't  no  hidin'  hit.  You  and  him's  as 
good  as  one.  Meanness  is  ketchin'  as  the  measles. 
You've  done  tuk  it  bad.  Ketched  hit  along  o'  John,  and 
got  hit  powerful  thick." 

She  turned  her  back  on  them  as  she  spoke,  and  went 
further  into  the  cave.  With  a  shamefaced  grin,  and  a 
barely  hidden  scowl,  the  man  addressed  walked  away, 
followed  by  the  others. 

Abner  stood  by  the  cave's  mouth.  He  did  not  speak, 
nor  move.  He  had  not  seen  the  girl  for  weeks,  and  his 
eyes  searched  the  semi-darkness  hungrily  for  a  sight  of 
her  face.  And  yet,  with  the  eagerness  of  a  starved 
animal  in  his  mien,  he  was  minded  to  go  away.  Once, 
twice,  he  tried,  and  failed.  Then  he  stood  and  waited. 
Her  figure  was  only  dimly  to  be  discerned  beyond  a 
point  where  the  passage  narrowed.  His  gaze  pierced 
the  gloom  with  the  greed  of  a  miser  excited  by  the  glint 
of  gold.  His  breath  came  in  short  gasps.  Not  as  a 
result  of  his  efforts  to  mete  out  a  measure  of  justice  to 
John  Kisselbaugh.  It  was  another  and  greater  effort 
that  quickened  the  beating  of  his  heart  and  made  his 
breath  irregular.  It  was  easier  to  keep  a  grip  on  his 


202  VISITING   THE    SIN 

enemy's  shoulder  than  on  those  words  that  rushed  to  his 
lips  and  struggled  there  for  utterance. 

"  I  hain't  goin'  to  say  hit.  There's  her  to  think  of. 
She  hain't  goin'  to  bear  none  o'  that  visitin'.  Hit's  got 
to  be  stopped  —  poured  aout  plumb  on  me." 

The  words  were  low,  only  half  audible.  His  eyes 
still  scanned  the  interior.  When  the  face  he  was  look- 
ing for  appeared,  coming  nearer  now,  but  softened  and 
ether ealised  by  the  subdued  light,  he  uttered  a  low  cry. 

"  Norah ! " 

Entreaty,  excuse,  and  yearning  were  in  the  one  word. 

She  came  to  the  mouth  of  the  cave, —  came  up  to 
him,  and  looked  into  his  face. 

"  Hit  hain't  plumb  through  my  fault,"  he  said  apolo- 
getically ;  "but  hit's  rough, —  hit's  rough  for  you." 

"  Du  you  think  I'm  carin'  ? " 

She  looked  at  him  defiantly,  but  with  a  smile  on  her 
lips. 

"  Maybe  not,"  he  said ;  "  but  7  am." 

"  For  what  he  said  ? " 

"For  what  he  said  —  abaout^0#." 

"He  knew  he  was  lyin',"  she  said,  "and  so  did  I. 
And  so  did  you,"  she  added  slowly ;  "  and,  if  ary  other 
didn't,  hit  warn't  makin'  much  difference." 

"  No,"  he  said,  looking  into  her  face  with  a  yearning, 
sorrowful  gaze.  "  Hit  cain't  make  ary  difference  now. 
Thar  hain't  nothin'  can  make  ary  difference.  Hit's  what 
is,  not  what  people  says,  that's  matterin'." 

She  looked  at  him  for  a  moment  doubtfully. 

"Ab,"  she  said,  "thar's  things  you  ought  to  know, 
and  you  hain't  the  one  to  find  aout.  Thar's  people 
say  in'  things  agin  you  and  agin  your  pappy." 

"I  know  hit,"  he  said,  in  a  tone  that  told  of  evil 
accepted  and  taken  home  to  the  heart. 

"  They  ought  to  be  stopped,"  she  said  sharply. 

"/cain't  stop  'em,"  replied  Abner  gently.  "I  hain't 
the  right." 


VISITING   THE    SIN  203 

"  Who  has  then  ?  "  asked  the  girl. 

"  Nobody,"  said  Abner  sadly.  "  I  hain't  knowin'  how 
much  of  what  they  say  is  true.  Norah,  he's  my  pappy, 
and  I  hain't  knowin'  jist  how  many  sins  thar  is" 

The  weird  mournfulness  of  tone  and  statement  struck 
to  the  girl's  heart. 

"  You  take  it  too  serious,"  she  said,  half  in  anger  at 
his  attitude.  "I  don't  believe  a  quarter  of  the  tales 
they  tell.  Why,  they  say  " — 

She  stopped  short.  The  pain  in  his  face  and  in  his 
whole  bearing  arrested  the  words.  What  was  the  use 
of  telling  him  ?  He  would  believe  it  all.  She  put  her 
hand  on  his  arm. 

"  Ab,  you're  a  plumb  fool,"  she  said.  "  He  was  your 
pappy,  but  he  wasn't  you.  And  I  hain't  so  powerful 
sure  he  was  what  they  say.  If  hit  was  my  pappy,  I'd 
give  'em  as  good  as  they  sent.  Thar  never  was  none 
o'  this  talk  till  Naomi  Mozingo  and  her  brother  come 
along.  And  hit's  her  more  'n  him.  He  hain't  so  plumb 
certain  of  what  nobody  cain't  know  for  sure.  But  she 
—  well,  if  she  made  up  her  mind  thar  was  a  rotten  egg 
in  the  moon,  hit'd  hev  to  be  so." 

"  Hit  hain't  matterin'  what  they  say,"  he  replied  sadly, 
passing  over  her  last  words.  "  Hit's  what  he  done,  and 
me  bein'  his  son  —  and  hit's  you.  Hit  hain't  goin'  to 
fall  on  you." 

"I  hain't  carin'  what  they  say,"  she  replied,  with  a 
little  disdainful  toss  of  her  head.  "Hit  hain't  makin' 
no  difference  thar.  But  if  hit  was  my  pappy,  I'd  stop 
her  talk.  Hit  looks  powerful  like  hit  was  the  money 
she's  atter, —  the  money  she  says  she's  lost." 

He  looked  at  her  with  sad  wistfulness.  The  last 
words  went  into  his  ears,  but  were  not  at  the  time  com- 
prehended. 

"Hit  does  make  a  difference, —  hit  must"  he  said. 
"  Not  what  they  say,  but  what  he  done.  I  hain't 


204  VISITING   THE    SIN 

knowin'  jist  what  it  was.  I  hain't  expectin'  to  know. 
Hit's  all  got  to  be  visited.  But  hit  shain't  come  on 
you." 

He  bent  suddenly  forward,  took  both  her  hands  in  his 
strong  grasp,  and  looked  in  her  face,  his  eyes  hot  and 
dry,  his  gaze  so  sorrowful  and  yearning  that  it  brought 
an  answering  tenderness  to  her  eyes.  For  a  minute  he 
stood  thus,  then  gently  released  her  hands  and  turned 
away. 

Without  once  looking  round  he  left  the  cave  and  the 
girl  standing  where  she  had  stood  when  he  let  go  of  her 
hands.  He  had  forgotten  his  jar  of  butter,  forgotten 
John  Kisselbaugh  and  his  charges,  forgotten  everything 
but  the  fact  that  he  was  Kennedy  Poteet's  son,  and  the 
visiting  of  his  father's  sins  must  fall  on  him,  and  should 
fall  nowhere  else. 

The  girl  stood  within  the  cave  till  he  had  disappeared. 

"  He  hain't  no  match  for  ary  one  of  'em,"  she  said. 
"  He's  a-takin'  his  father's  sins  on  his  own  shoulders, 
and  bearin'  all  they  like  to  heap  up  inter  the  bargain. 
Hit's  powerful  foolish,  but  hit's  — hit's  Ab" 

The  brain  of  man  is  a  strange  machine.  Somewhere 
in  its  mechanism  it  keeps  account  of  impressions  of 
which,  when  made,  the  mind  barely  takes  cognizance. 
Words,  heard  but  not  heeded,  come  back,  freshened  and 
strengthened  by  their  sojourn  in  some  dim  recess  of  the 
brain  where  they  were  stowed  away  unwittingly.  It  was 
long  before  there  was  room  in  Abner's  mind  for  any 
other  thought  than  the  one  of  Norah's  personality  and 
his  renunciation.  Whether  the  dream  of  a  world  with 
Norah  and  without  anybody  else  had  been  a  foolish  one 
or  not, —  and  on  that  point  he  had  never  been  assured, — 
it  was  over  now.  He  had  given  her  up,  and  she  knew 
it.  He  could  never  dream  again  —  except  of  what  might 
have  been. 

But  slowly,  so  slowly  that  he  did  not  know  when  it 


VISITING   THE    SIN  205 

came,  another  thought  began  to  engage  his  attention. 
The  past  involved  money  as  well  as  life.  There  were 
sin  and  sorrow  and  suffering  back  there ;  but  there  was 
money,  too.  And  somebody  was  laying  claim  to  it. 

Abner's  brain  was  not  of  the  rapid-working  order. 
He  thought  the  subject  out  slowly  and  painfully,  piecing 
together  the  words  that  Norah  had  let  drop  and  hints 
that  had  come  to  him  before.  He  had  never  forgotten 
Naomi,  and  the  visit  she  paid  him  at  the  close  of  the 
day.  But  that  visit  had  been  associated  in  his  mind 
with  the  indefinite  wrong  of  the  past.  He  thought  she 
was  reproaching  him  for  his  father's  sins,  those  vague, 
terrible  transgressions,  of  which  one,  witnessed  in  child- 
hood, had  taken  such  a  firm  hold  of  his  imagination  that 
after  it  nothing  of  horror  or  of  shame  appeared  impos- 
sible. Now,  into  this  past  came  the  question  of  money. 
Had  this  girl  any  claim  that  he  could  satisfy?  Was 
there  a  wrong  that  could  be  righted,  one  out  of  those 
sins  of  the  fathers  that  could  be  blotted  out  by  restitu- 
tion ? 

Abner  had  inherited  the  greater  part  of  his  father's 
wealth,  though  a  portion  of  it  had  gone  to  a  nephew  of 
whom  old  Kennedy  had  been  fond.  So  far  as  Abner 
was  concerned,  the  wealth  was  wasted.  He  had  never 
used  it,  preferring  to  live  in  the  little  log  cabin  that  had 
been  his  mother's  property.  For  him  there  was  a  curse 
on  Kennedy  Poteet's  money.  But  if  any  of  it  could  be 
given  back,  restored  to  its  rightful  owner  ?  The  thought 
presented  a  new  possibility. 

Abner  did  not  know  how  the  day  went ;  but  he  knew 
that  the  night  was  long,  for  it  brought  him  no  forgetful- 
ness.  Norah' s  face,  the  beauty  of  the  girl  he  could 
never  claim,  haunted  him,  tortured  him  with  a  desire 
to  possess  it,  with  a  yearning  sense  of  loss,  with  the 
hopelessness  of  renunciation.  At  the  earliest  dawn  he 
was  outside  his  door,  looking  with  sad,  searching  eyes  at 
the  familiar  things. 


206  VISITING   THE    SIN 

Breakfast  was  well  over,  and  the  men  had  gone  to 
the  mill,  when  Naomi  saw  a  stranger  approaching  the 
house.  She  had  seen  Abner  Poteet  by  his  own  fireside, 
and  occasionally  since,  but  his  figure  was  not  familiar  to 
her.  It  was  not  until  he  came  near  that  she  recognised 
the  innkeeper's  son.  Then  face  and  form  stiffened. 
The  hand  that  opened  the  door  at  Abner' s  knock  was 
steady,  and  the  eyes  that  looked  at  him,  cold.  The 
girl's  heart  was  not  cold.  It  burned  with  a  sense  of 
outrage.  How  dare  this  man  come  here,  when  he  knew 
that  his  father's  guilt  was  discovered !  She  stood  with 
the  door  in  her  hand,  waiting  for  him  to  speak. 

"I'm  the  son  of  Kennedy  Poteet,"  he  said  slowly 
and  sorrowfully.  "  They  say  that  he  —  that  you  claim 
you  have  suffered  loss  through  him.  The  past  is  dead 
—  with  him.  I  hain't  denyin'  that  what  you  say  is  true, 
and  I  hain't  acknowledgin'  hit.  I  hain't  no  right.  I'm 
willin'  to  pay  anything  you  like,  fourfold  if  you've  a 
mind  to  ask  hit." 

He  was  waiting  for  her  to  speak.  He  saw  her  eyes 
darken  and  her  face  kindle. 

"  You  offer  me  money  ? "  she  said  in  slow,  measured 
tones.  "  You  ! " 

"  Yes,"  he  said  simply.  "  I  never  used  hit.  Thar's 
enough.  You  may  be  right  or  you  may  be  wrong,  but 
hit'd  be  the  safest  for  you  to  hev  hit." 

"  I  don't  doubt  it  would  —  for  you!'  replied  Naomi. 
"Abner  Poteet,  if  you  brought  all  the  money  he  sold 
his  soul  for,  all  he  took  from  those  whose  bones  he  left 
to  moulder  and  whose  children  he  left  to  mourn,  I  would 
not  touch  a  cent  of  it.  If  you  think  it  will  buy  silence 
from  me,  or  stop  the  retribution  that  is  as  surely  coming 
on  every  one  who  bears  the  name  of  Poteet  as  the  night 
is  coming  after  the  day,  you're  powerful  mistaken. 
Keep  the  money.  It  is  the  price  of  blood.  It  shall 
cling  to  you,  like  the  curse  that  goes  with  it." 


VISITING   THE    SIN  207 

His  eyes  were  fixed  on  her  face.  The  ringing, 
measured  tones  sent  the  words  eating  their  way  into  his 
heart. 

"  I  hain't  expectin'  to  git  shet  o'  the  curse,"  he  said. 

He  turned  away,  and  left  her  standing  by  the  door. 


208  VISITING   THE    SIN 


CHAPTER   XIV 

THE  point  of  view  has  almost  as  much  to  do  with 
what  men  see  as  the  actual  object  of  sight.     Vio- 
lent   difference  of  opinion  would  be  eliminated, 
and  heart-burning  and  clashing  of  judgment  reduced  to 
a  minimum,  if  everybody  could  look  upon  the  same  thing 
from  the  same   point  of  view.     Unfortunately  for  the 
peace  of  the  world,  the  moral  hill-top,  on  which  men  can 
gather  and  look  out  upon  life's  duties  and  relationships 
from  an  entirely  equal  view  point,  has  yet  to    be  dis- 
covered. 

Naomi  and  Dalbert  Mozingo  were  experiencing  some 
of  the  difficulties  attendant  upon  antagonistic  points  of 
view.  To  both  the  loss  of  their  father  had  been  an 
equal  sorrow,  but  it  had  presented  itself  to  them  under 
different  aspects.  Dalbert  had  always  looked  upon  it  as 
a  loss  to  be  mourned,  Naomi  as  a  mystery  to  be  ex- 
plained. Hitherto  the  difference  in  the  point  of  view 
had  troubled  neither.  Such  difference  was  habitual  to 
the  brother  and  sister.  Naomi  had  always  laughed  a 
little  ironically  at  her  brother's  attitude  towards  the 
world  and  towards  circumstances.  His  readiness  to  see 
the  adverse  side  of  every  question  affecting  himself,  and 
to  shoulder  the  evils  fate  showered  upon  him,  and  his 
unreadiness  to  perceive  faultiness  in  others,  by  which 
unreadiness  he  courted  fresh  attentions  from  fate,  were, 
in  her  estimation,  characteristic  of  Dalbert.  But  in  her 
heart  she  admired  the  stalwart  honesty  and  manly  kind- 
ness of  the  brother  whose  depression  she  set  herself  to 
charm  away  when  the  load  grew  too  heavy  for  him,  and 
whose  misfortunes  she  patiently  shared  or  boldly  re- 
moved by  some  daring  exploit. 


VISITING   THE    SIN  209 

And  Dalbert  admired  and  trusted  and  depended  upon 
the  girl  whose  nature  was  to  him  somewhat  of  an 
enigma.  Lighter  than  his  own  at  some  points,  it  dis- 
closed at  others  depths  that  he  could  not  fathom.  He 
had  never  seen  eye  to  eye  with  his  sister,  but  he  loved 
her  and  rested  in  her,  so  that  until  now  differences  of 
opinion  had  been  of  little  consequence.  With  the 
advent  of  the  mill  owner  there  had  come  a  change. 

The  brother  and  sister  had  reached  a  point  where 
they  not  only  failed  to  see  alike,  but  where  each  felt  the 
blindness  of  the  other  a  moral  wrong  rather  than  a 
moral  incapacity.  To  Naomi,  Dalbert 's  slowness  to 
acknowledge  the  duty  of  avenging  the  death  of  their 
father  was  a  want  of  fealty  that  amounted  to  positive 
weakness.  To  Dalbert,  his  sister's  eagerness  to  seek 
the  vengeance  for  which  her  conception  of  duty  to  her 
father  called  seemed  a  soul  -  hardening  desire  for  re- 
venge, a  vindictive  pursuing  of  the  helpless  for  the  satis- 
faction of  her  own  anger.  He  did  her  a  partial  injus- 
tice, but  he  did  not  know  it.  His  mistake  arose  from 
failure  to  understand  the  aspect  in  which  the  matter 
presented  itself  to  her,  and  not  from  failure  to  love. 

The  breach  would  have  been  less  wide  but  for  the 
presence  of  the  mill  owner.  Naomi  had  grown  very 
confidential  with  Will  Hollingsworth  of  late.  He  was 
essential  to  the  accomplishing  of  the  end  upon  which 
she  had  set  her  will  and  her  heart.  The  mill  owner  did 
not  envy  Dalbert  now.  He  had  come  into  a  brother's 
privileges  with  something  a  little  different  from  a 
brother's  position.  He  appreciated  his  good  fortune, 
and  made  the  most  of  it.  And  in  proportion  as  his  inti- 
macy with  Naomi  increased,  Dalbert 's  indignation  at 
what  he  termed  "  the  savage  pursuit  of  Abner  Poteet " 
grew  more  pronounced. 

Not  that  Naomi  had,  directly,  anything  to  do  with  the 
treatment  Abner  received,  beyond  the  fact  that  her 


210  VISITING   THE   SIN 

words,  sometimes  spoken  personally,  sometimes  through 
Will  Hollingsworth,  had  brought  into  being,  and  were 
daily  quickening  into  vigour,  feeling  inimical  to  him  in 
Big  Creek  Gap.  For  John  Kisselbaugh's  attacks,  covert 
and  otherwise,  she  was  not  responsible,  except  in  so  far 
as  public  opinion  was  responsible  for  them,  and  she  was 
responsible  for  public  opinion.  John  had  hated  Abner 
even  before  the  strong  arm  of  the  latter  had  delivered 
the  tortured  mules  from  his  power,  but  his  was  not  the 
character  to  embody  its  hatred  in  open  injury  until  the 
man  he  hated  lay  under  the  heel  of  fate. 

It  chanced  that  Dalbert  heard  of  Abner's  visit  to  his 
sister  indirectly,  instead  of  from  herself.  She  had  kept 
it  no  secret  that  the  innkeeper's  son  had  tried  to  buy 
her  silence  with  respect  to  one  of  his  father's  victims, — 
for  this  was  the  light  in  which  Naomi  viewed  the  effort 
Abner  had  made  to  restore  what  might  have  been 
wrongfully  taken, —  but  she  had  not  spoken  of  it  to  her 
brother.  The  knowledge,  when  it  came  to  him,  pleased 
him  ill.  If  Naomi's  view  of  Abner's  action  were  right, 
it  proved  that  her  attitude  was  at  least  open  to  miscon- 
ception :  if  wrong,  it  afforded  somewhat  conclusive  evi- 
dence that  she  was  persecuting  an  innocent  man.  It 
did  not  add  to  his  good  temper  that  the  knowledge  had 
come  to  him  through  the  chance  remark  of  a  man  at  the 
mill.  He  walked  home  in  a  perturbed  state  of  mind, 
and  in  the  same  state  of  mind  encountered  his  sister. 

"  Naomi,  when  is  this  worse  than  folly  to  stop  ? " 

She  was  standing  by  the  door  when  he  accosted  her, 
her  hands  hanging  lightly  down  by  her  sides.  She 
stood  there  when  he  had  finished  speaking,  and  not  a 
finger  had  moved. 

"You  look  wa-arm  —  for  the  time  of  year,"  she 
said,  "  powerful  wa-arm." 

There  was  a  sarcastic  smile  on  her  lips.  It  did  not 
tend  to  cool  him. 


VISITING   THE    SIN  211 

"Naomi,"  he  said  angrily,  "this  is  no  time  for  fooling. 
You're  in  the  wrong,  and  you  know  it." 

She  looked  at  him  fixedly,  and  there  came  to  her  eyes 
a  depth  that  made  them  darken  and  glow  as  with  some 
half  concealed  fire. 

"  In  the  wrong,  am  I  ? "  she  said  in  a  low,  ringing 
voice.  "And  where  are  you,  Da-al  ?  It's  powerful 
right  and  powerful  creditable,  isn't  it,  for  his  son  to  take 
sides  with  his  murderer  ? " 

"  Take  sides  ? "  he  said  impatiently.  "  There  were  no 
sides  till  you  made  them." 

Her  eyes  grew  deeper  still.  They  looked  at  him  in  a 
way  that  was  not  comfortable. 

"  You're  plumb  ri-ight,"  she  said  slowly.  "  There 
were  no  sides,  or  rather  there  was  only  one  side  the-en ; 
and  that  was  the  murderer's.  There  was  none  to  be  on 
the  other  side  but  hi-im,  and  his  mouth  was  shut.  No-o, 
it's  powerful  true  that  there  was  but  one  side  till  I  put 
myself  in  the  wrong  by  making  another, —  his  side." 

"What  good  have  you  done  him  ?  "  asked  Dalbert,  his 
irritation  in  no  wise  diminished  by  the  fact  that  her 
words  had  the  appearance  of  turning  the  tables  and 
fixing  the  faultiness  on  himself.  "  It  is  nothing  but  a 
wild  fancy  of  your  own, —  this  idea  of  revenge  on  another 
than  the  man  who  did  the  deed, —  a  scheme  of  yours 
and  Will  Hollingsworth's.  And  speaking  of  Will,  I 
wonder  you  don't  see  that  people  will  talk.  He  might 
be  your  brother,  judging  by  the  way  you  take  him  into 
your  confidence." 

"Yes,  he  mi-ight  be  my  brother,"  said  Naomi,  with 
those  great  darkening  eyes  of  hers  still  fixed  on  his 
face.  "  He  behaves  a  tolerable  sight  more  like  it  than 
you-u  do.  It's  my  brother's  place  to  do  his  duty  towards 
my  father  and  hi-is.  But  he  preferred  to  leave  it  to 
Will,  and  Will  did  it.  Yes,  he's  powerful  like  a  brother : 
he  ha-ad  to  be." 


212  VISITING   THE    SIN 

"  Or  like  something  nearer,"  said  Dal,  and  turned  and 
walked  away. 

He  did  not  go  into  the  house  that  night  until  the 
lights  were  out  and  everybody  was  in  bed.  His  remon- 
strance had  not  only  failed  of  its  effect,  but  had  widened 
the  breach  between  himself  and  his  sister. 

March  was  not  half  over  that  year  before  the  farmers 
were  busy  "  making  their  gardens."  The  odd  little  bul- 
lock-tongue ploughs,  that  made  light,  uneven  scratches 
in  the  soil,  were  being  dragged  up  and  down  precipitous 
ledges  by  the  sure-footed  mules,  preparatory  to  "  making 
a  little  crop  of  oats."  Here  and  there  oxen  were  at 
work  ploughing  up  the  level  land  in  the  valley.  Nobody 
was  in  a  hurry,  for  Nature  gave  the  worker  abundant 
time  for  his  operations  in  this  region  where  she  smiled 
more  often  than  she  frowned.  There  was  no  necessity 
for  haste. 

Perhaps  that  was  why  a  stranger,  walking  along  the 
steep,  rocky  path  that  led  to  the  saw-mill,  surveyed  the 
scene  leisurely.  Hurry  would  be  manifestly  out  of 
place  in  a  world  like  this  around  him.  There  was  no 
hurry  at  the  mill,  certainly ;  for  there  even  the  wheels 
were  resting.  Dalbert  Mozingo  himself  was  idle,  though 
the  worried  look  on  his  face  scarcely  betokened  rest. 

«  Howdy." 

The  stranger  strolled  into  the  open  space  in  front  of 
the  mill. 

"  Had  a  breakdown,  I  hear." 

His  eyes  —  keen  blue  ones,  that  had  not  looked  about 
on  the  world  for  twenty-six  years  without  learning  some- 
thing from  it  —  leisurely  scanned  the  faces  and  figures 
of  the  men  lounging  in  the  neighbourhood  of  the  mill. 
After  that  scrutiny  their  owner  turned  unhesitatingly  to 
Dalbert  Mozingo. 

"Feel  like  having  ary  kind  of  repairs  done?"  he 
asked. 


VISITING   THE    SIN  213 

"  I  feel  like  having  everything  done,  if  it  will  set  the 
machinery  going  again,"  said  Dal.  "But  who's  to  do 
it  ?  The  break's  beyond  my  knowledge." 

"  Maybe  hit's  not  beyond  mine,"  said  the  stranger. 
"  I'm  a  machinist.  I  heard  thar  was  something  wrong 
at  the  mill,  and  came  up  to  see." 

"  Do  you  understand  this  machinery  ?  "  asked  Dalbert, 
looking  more  closely  at  the  speaker. 

He  was  of  medium  height,  and  slight  build.  The 
lithe,  sinewy  form  showed  grace  and  strength  in  every 
swing  of  the  arm  or  movement  of  the  body.  The  head 
was  held  well  up,  but  carried  lightly,  as  if  its  owner  had 
expected  good  at  the  hands  of  the  world,  and  had  found 
his  expectations  met  without  conscious  effort  on  his  part. 

"  I  reckon,"  he  said,  with  a  smile  that  was  possibly 
more  convincing  than  the  words. 

"You're  welcome,  then,"  said  Dalbert, — "nary  one 
more  so." 

They  went  into  the  mill  together. 

"Who's  he?"  questioned  the  loungers,  looking  from 
one  to  another  for  an  answer. 

Heads  were  shaken  doubtfully. 

"  Looks  mighty  like  a  stranger.  He's  a  powerful 
pretty  man." 

"  He's  done  come  in  the  nick  of  time,"  said  another. 

"I  reckon." 

"  Whar  have  I  seed  his  face  afore  ? "  asked  one  of  the 
company,  thoughtfully.  "I'm  plumb  put  aout.  If  I 
hain't  sot  eyes  on  him  more  'n  onct  in  my  life,  I've  seed 
somebody  powerful  like  him.  I  cain't  jist  decide  whar, 
though." 

They  laughed,  and  went  into  the  mill. 

The  breakdown  proved  to  be  more  serious  than  Dal- 
bert supposed.  Will  Hollingsworth  was  away,  and  in 
his  absence  Dalbert  took  upon  himself  the  responsibility 
of  having  the  machinery  overhauled.  The  stranger  set 


214  VISITING  THE    SIN 

about  the  examination  with  the  cool  ease  that  was  char- 
acteristic of  his  every  movement.  Dalbert  did  not 
again  question  his  knowledge  of  machinery  in  general, 
and  this  piece  of  machinery  in  particular.  He  took  his 
time  over  the  examination. 

"  H it'll  take  two  or  three  days  to  git  things  in  good 
shape  agin,"  he  announced,  when  the  extent  of  the 
damage  was  discovered. 

Dalbert' s  reply  was  emphatic. 

"It's  got  to  go  through  quicker 'n  that,"  he  said. 
"There's  stuff  laying  here  that's  promised  to  men  who 
need  it.  It's  trees  now.  It's  got  to  be  boards  in  less 
time  than  you  say." 

"  Very  good,"  replied  the  stranger.  "  I'll  patch  things 
up  for  you,  and  have  the  wheels  turning  in  less  than 
twelve  hours,  if  you  say  so." 

"  I  do  say  so,"  responded  Dal. 

"Very  good,"  repeated  the  stranger.  "The  ma- 
chinery shall  be  working  at  daybreak  to-morrow." 

From  that  moment  the  mill  ceased  to  be  a  good 
lounging-place. 

"  That  feller  steps  round  powerful  lively  himself,  and 
seems  to  think  everybody's  as  young  and  spry  as  him," 
grumbled  one  of  the  men,  reluctantly  bending  his  back 
to  lift  a  heavy  block.  "  Hit '11  be  a  plumb  guede  thing 
when  the  mill's  runnin'  agin'." 

" Lor !  you  needn't  be  scart,"  was  the  reply.  "He 
hain't  goin'  to  git  no  extra  work  aout  o'  you-u.  The 
man  hain't  born  that  could  du  tha-at." 

There  was  an  answering  laugh,  and  the  work  went  on. 

Noon  found  the  stranger  at  Naomi's  table,  his  keen 
blue  eyes  scanning  the  girl's  face. 

"  We're  getting  the  break  patched  up,"  explained  Dal, 
"  and  shall  be  at  work  again  by  to-morrow,  thanks  to,"  — 

He  stopped  inquiringly. 

"  Marshall  Lane,"  replied  the  stranger,  with  an  odd 


VISITING   THE   SIN  215 

little  smile  that  broke  round  -the  corners  of  his  mouth 
and  then  died  away.  He  was  watching  Naomi. 

"How  long  will  you  guarantee  the  machinery  to 
work  ? "  asked  Dalbert  presently. 

"Twenty-four  hours  —  and  take  the  risk  of  my 
words,"  replied  the  other. 

Dalbert  stared  at  him. 

"  Why  didn't  you  say  so  before  ? "  he  demanded,  half 
angrily. 

"  You  did  not  ask  me,"  was  the  reply,  given  with  a 
quiet  smile.  "  You  said  the  machinery  must  be  set  at 
work.  Very  well.  I  will  set  hit  at  work,  but  I  will  not 
guarantee  for  how  long.  Hit  may  go  for  twelve  months 
—  or  twelve  hours." 

Dalbert  sat  and  looked  at  him,  his  dinner  forgotten. 

"  What  would  you  advise  me  to  do  ? "  he  asked  after 
a  minute's  silence. 

"  Eat  your  dinner,  in  the  first  place,"  replied  the 
stranger,  "  and  keep  on  with  the  patching  up  in  the  next. 
Hit  hain't  plumb  necessary  to  stop  the  mill  all  the  time 
the  repairs  are  being  done.  Git  things  started  agin,  and 
to-morrow  me  and  the  blacksmith  will  set  to  work  to 
make  the  new  bolts  and  parts  that  are  needed.  When 
everything's  ready,  we  can  stop  the  sawing  and  git  things 
fixed  in  abaout  a  day." 

Dalbert  breathed  a  sigh  of  relief,  and  Naomi  vouch- 
safed a  longer  glance  from  eyes  that  for  the  moment  lost 
their  slumberous  calm  and  awoke  for  him  as  they  had 
not  done  before.  He  had  come  at  a  time  when  his 
presence  was  needed  to  help  her  brother  out  of  a  diffi- 
culty. That  of  itself  was  sufficient  to  commend  him  to 
her  notice.  But  Marshall  Lane  was  not  a  man  who 
needed  commendation  from  outside  circumstances.  He 
was  accustomed  to  depend  on  himself  for  his  welcome, 
and  rarely  to  go  without  it.  Perhaps  he  exerted  himself 
a  little  more  than  usual  to  win  it  on  the  present  occasion. 


216  VISITING   THE    SIN 

Not  visibly.  The  blue  eyes  that  now  and  again  sought 
Naomi's  had  the  same  quiet  smile  in  them  for  the  girl 
that  was  there  for  everybody  else.  But  possibly  it  came 
a  little  more  often,  and  stayed  longer. 

The  pressure  of  work  at  the  mill  was  not  over  as  soon 
as  Dalbert  expected.  He  found  it  inconvenient  to  stop 
the  machinery.  Fortunately  Marshall  Lane  was  accom- 
modating. 

"  I'm  in  no  hurry,"  he  said.  «  Take  your  own  time. 
I  came  to  look  abaout  the  valley  a  bit.  Hit  hain't  plumb 
certain  I  shain't  be  putting  up  machinery  of  my  own 
before  long.  I  shall  be  here  when  you  want  me." 

Apparently  he  found  Naomi's  cooking  to  his  taste, 
for  he  took  no  steps  to  provide  himself  with  other 
accommodation. 

"You  cain't  turn  me  aout,  Miss  Mozingo,"  he  said 
with  that  smile  which  Naomi  had  come  to  acknowledge 
as  pleasant ;  "  for  the  machinery  may  break  down  ary 
day,  and  hit  is  plumb  necessary  for  me  to  be  on  hand  — 
for  your  brother's  sake." 

"  I  could  perhaps  put  up  with  a  worse  nuisance  —  for 
Dalbert' s  sake,"  she  said. 

There  was  a  meeting  of  a  pair  of  calm  dark  eyes  and 
two  keen  blue  ones.  Then  the  owner  of  the  blue  ones 
laughed. 

"  I  accept  the  position,"  he  said.  "  We  are  both  will- 
ing to  do  something — for  Dalbert's  sake." 

The  first  week  gave  place  to  a  second,  and  the  machin- 
ery was  not  yet  adjusted  at  the  mill.  Will  Hollingsworth 
was  still  away,  and  business  was  pressing.  Dalbert  had 
begun  by  being  somewhat  suspicious  of  the  stranger. 
He  ended  by  liking  him  unreservedly.  As  for  Naomi, 
she  had  possibly  better  opportunities  for  judging  than 
her  brother.  Marshall  Lane's  comings  and  goings  were 
less  regular  than  those  of  other  members  of  the  house- 
hold. She  could  not  reckon  on  his  being  away  from 


VISITING   THE    SIN  217 

breakfast  until  noon  and  from  one  until  evening.  In 
truth  there  were  few  days  when  he  did  not  break  in  on 
her  work  or  her  leisure.  She  took  the  interruptions 
kindly. 

It  was  perhaps  because  she  had  a  little  more  work  than 
usual  to  do  that  she  found  the  weeks  short.  This  was 
the  first  occasion  that  Will  Hollingsworth  had  left  the 
valley  since  her  own  arrival  there.  It  was  strange  that 
his  absence  did  not  leave  a  bigger  blank. 


218  VISITING   THE   SIN 


CHAPTER   XV 

THE  two  weeks  of  Will  Hollingsworth's  absence 
from  Big  Creek  Gap  had  put  Marshall  Lane  on  a 
very  friendly  footing  at  the  house  over  which  the 
steep  bank  above  the  "  branch  "  hung  protectingly.  In 
spite  of  the  breakdown  in  the  machinery  the  weeks  had 
been  satisfactory  ones  to  Dalbert.  Local  demands  and 
calls  from  a  distance  had  kept  the  mill  going  at  its  full 
capacity,  and  an  unusually  large  quantity  of  work  had 
been  turned  out.  This  in  itself  was  enough  to  rejoice 
the  heart  of  Dalbert  Mozingo.  It  would  have  vexed 
him  sorely  had  the  mill  owner  been  given  cause  to  com- 
ment disparagingly  on  his  superintendent's  management 
during  his  own  absence  from  the  mill. 

Those  same  weeks  could  not  have  been  altogether 
unsatisfactory  to  the  superintendent's  sister,  for  the 
girl's  step  was  buoyant,  and  the  soft  Southern  voice  had 
in  it  a  melodious  ring  that  was  suggestive  of  happiness. 
Dalbert' s  attitude  might  possibly  be  regarded  as  the 
provocative  cause  of  the  happiness.  There  was  a  notice- 
able lessening  of  his  irritability  towards  his  sister.  In 
the  absence  of  the  mill  owner  he  found  himself  disposed 
to  attach  less  importance  to  Naomi's  position  with 
regard  to  the  family  of  Kennedy  Poteet.  Now  that 
Will  was  not  there  to  keep  prominent  the  difference  of 
opinion,  the  brother  and  sister  fell  into  something  like 
the  old  relations.  Dal  was  glad  to  let  the  matter  rest, 
and  Naomi  —  well,  maybe  it  was  not  at  the  moment  the 
foremost  interest  of  her  life. 

For  the  pursuit  of  justice  —  or  vengeance  —  may  be- 
come an  interest  as  absorbing  as  any  other.  Naomi  did 


VISITING   THE    SIN  219 

not  tell  herself  that  a  pair  of  blue  eyes,  which  were  occa- 
sionally caught  studying  her  face,  had  anything  to  do 
with  the  alteration  of  feeling.  She  was  not  in  the  habit 
of  telling  herself  that  any  man's  interest  or  indifference 
could  make  more  than  a  passing  change  in  her  feelings. 

She  was  not  averse  to  being  admired,  but  she  took 
the  admiration  very  much  as  a  matter  of  course.  That 
this  stranger  should  find  her  a  fitting  object  of  study 
was  nothing  new.  They  all  did  it.  But  it  was  a  little 
new  that  the  study  should  make  any  material  difference 
to  her  enjoyment  of  life.  That  it  was  doing  so,  she  did 
not  at  present  acknowledge.  She  had  not  thought  about 
it.  She  had  simply  gone  on  her  way,  and  found  life 
pleasant.  As  for  Marshall  Lane,  he  was  content  also, 
unless  appearance  and  reality  strangely  contradicted 
each  other. 

The  business  of  the  day  was  over.  Twilight  would 
have  been  fading  into  darkness  if  a  moon,  almost  full, 
had  not  ridden  high  overhead.  As  it  was,  daylight 
simply  stepped  aside,  and  gave  place  to  moonlight. 

"Miss  Mozingo,  hit's  a  pretty  night, —  too  pretty  to 
be  spent  indoors." 

A  well-shaped  head  appeared  in  the  doorway,  and  a 
pair  of  clear  blue  eyes  looked  in  on  Naomi. 

"  Yes, —  I  thought  you  had  gone  aout  to  enjoy  it." 

She  was  lifting  a  pile  of  plates  to  a  high  shelf.  The 
action  showed  to  advantage  the  grace  and  symmetry  of 
her  form.  Marshall  Lane  stood  watching  her. 

"  Won't  you  come  ? "  he  asked,  as  she  turned  for 
another  pile. 

"Perhaps, —  when  I  have  finished,"  she  said. 

He  was  by  her  side,  with  outstretched  hand,  a  mo- 
ment too  late  to  help  her  with  the  second  load.  She 
looked  at  him  with  a  laugh  in  her  eyes. 

"  You  choose  the  smaller  of  two  evils,"  she  said. 
"  The  choice  lies  between  waiting  and  making  yourself 
useful." 


220  VISITING   THE    SIN 

"No,  the  greater  of  two  privileges.  Either  leaves 
me  where  I  want  to  be,"  he  replied. 

"Perhaps.  There's  a  powerful  lot  of  things  that 
sound  plumb  different  and  mean  exactly  the  same,"  she 
said. 

They  went  out  together.  The  moon  looked  down  on 
them  approvingly.  Marshall  Lane  began  climbing  the 
precipitous,  almost  overhanging  bank. 

"  The  air  is  fresher  on  top,"  he  said. 

Upon  the  road  above  they  stood  for  a  minute,  drink- 
ing in  the  cool  evening  air.  Beneath  them  was  the 
house,  and  not  far  from  it  the  mill,  occupying  the  low 
land  by  the  bed  of  the  "branch."  Above,  on  the  oppo- 
site side  of  the  stream,  rose  a  high  hill,  shutting  in  the 
"  branch,"  and  the  steep  bank,  and  even  the  rugged  rock 
pathway  beneath  their  feet,  that  went  dipping  down 
sharply  till  it  reached  the  level  of  the  valley  road  which 
here  crossed  it  at  right  angles.  Looking  down  towards 
that  road,  the  dark  outlines  of  the  Walden  range  could 
be  seen,  apparently  so  close  to-night  as  to  stretch  sheer 
across  the  end  of  the  pathway  upon  which  the  two  were 
standing. 

"Hit's  pretty,  hain't  hit?"  said  Marshall.  "Miss 
Mozingo," — for  Marshall  Lane  had  not  dropped  into 
the  more  familiar  form  of  address  adopted,  as  a  rule,  by 
the  workmen,  and  taken  very  much  as  a  matter  of  course, 
—  "if  nary  person  had  been  before  me,  hit's  thar  I 
should  have  built  a  mill." 

"  A  saw-mill  ? "  asked  Naomi. 

"  No,  a  grist-mill.  I've  had  my  eye  on  that  spot  for 
years.  I  put  hit  off  a  little  too  long." 

"  You  knew  the  place,  then  ? "  said  Naomi.  "  You 
must  have  known  it  well,  to  choose  that  spot." 

"  Yes."  Then  after  a  moment's  silence  :  "  I  spent  a 
year  or  more  here  some  time  ago." 

"  Here,  in  this  roadway  ? " 


VISITING   THE    SIN  221 

"  Not  exactly,"  he  said  with  a  little  laugh.  "  But  in 
Big  Creek  Gap, —  and  in  this  neighbourhood." 

They  were  walking  on  now.  He  had  taken  the  initi- 
ative, and  turned  in  the  downward  direction,  which  would 
lead  them  into  the  valley  road. 

"  You  have  not  been  here  for  ten  years,  I  think  you 
said,"  remarked  Naomi. 

"  More  than  that.  I  was  a  boy  when  I  came.  But  I 
knew  every  foot  of  the  valley.  Hit  was  soon  after  the 
war." 

She  did  not  answer  him.  The  words  had  sent  her 
thoughts  leaping  back,  and  quickened  emotions  that  had 
been  less  active  of  late.  She  felt  as  if  the  moonlight 
had  been  suddenly  dimmed. 

He  did  not  speak  again.  He  was  watching  the 
changing  expression  of  her  face.  The  moon  was  a 
splendid  ally,  revealing  what  night  pretended  to  hide. 
They  had  almost  reached  the  end  of  the  path  before  the 
silence  was  broken.  It  was  Naomi  who  spoke. 

"  Are  we  going  to  turn  back,  or  get  our  feet  wet  ? " 
she  asked. 

They  had  come  to  a  point  where  the  "  branch  "  filled 
the  space  between  hillside  and  hillside,  and  the  path  dis- 
appeared beneath  the  waters,  or,  more  properly  speak- 
ing, took  to  mountain  ways  and  became  a  mere  track, 
climbing  laboriously  the  rocky  projection  above  the 
stream. 

"  Neither,"  he  said.  "  We  will  climb.  Hit's  not  dark 
enough  for  stumbling." 

He  held  out  his  hand,  and  she  put  hers  in  it.  It  was 
not  necessary.  She  was  a  mountain  girl,  and  she  knew 
the  way  perfectly.  But  he  kept  it  in  his  strong  grasp, 
and  they  went  hand  in  hand  over  the  spur  of  the  hill, 
and  down  into  the  valley  road. 

"  We  have  come  down  for  the  pleasure  of  going  back," 
she  said,  laughing.  "  There  is  no  other  reason  for  being 
here." 


222  VISITING   THE    SIN 

"Isn't  that  pleasure  enough?"  he  asked.  "  Hit  is 
for  me." 

He  went  on  a  few  steps,  however,  until  they  stood  in 
the  hollow,  facing  the  big  house.  It  was  dark  and 
silent.  Just  so  it  had  appeared  when  Abner  Poteet 
came  before  it  on  the  night  of  the  preaching.  Marshall 
Lane  looked  long  at  the  building. 

"  You  did  not  know  the  old  man  who  lived  there,"  he 
said,  turning  to  the  girl  by  his  side. 

He  looked  into  her  face.  It  had  frozen  beneath  the 
light  of  the  moonbeams. 

"  I  know  what  he  was,"  she  said,  in  a  voice  that  was 
very  quiet. 

"  Do  you  ?  So  do  I  —  a  little,"  he  replied,  in  a  dif- 
ferent tone.  "  Miss  Mozingo,  I  think  there  was  never 
a  man  abaout  whom  I  should  feel  more  like  applying  that 
Bible  injunction,  *  Judge  not.'  Nobody  really  knew 
Kennedy  Poteet  but  the  One  who  alone  is  able  to  judge 
him.  He  was  the  strangest  mixture  of  good  and  evil 
that  ever  bore  the  name  of  man  —  but  for  me  the  good 
predominated." 

"He  did  not  kill  your  father,"  she  said,  in  a  cold, 
hard  voice. 

"No,"  he  answered  gently.  "Is  hit  plumb  certain 
he  killed  anybody's  ?  Yes,  I  know  what  you  would  say," 
he  continued,  answering  the  quick  gesture.  "There 
was  the  time  when  Abner  surprised  him  in  one  of  his 
fits  of  passion,  and  witnessed  what  looked  like  a  mur- 
der. But  Ab  was  a  mere  child,  and  could  not  under- 
stand how  the  quarrel  arose.  The  rest  is  solely  con- 
jecture." 

He  had  not  taken  his  eyes  from  her  face  while  he 
spoke.  He  saw  it  change  from  cold  stillness  to  a  quiv- 
ering, passionate  life.  The  lips  that  opened  to  make 
him  answer  drooped  one  moment  in  sorrow  and  the  next 
hardened  with  passion. 


VISITING  THE   SIN  223 

"Was  it  conjecture  that  my  father  was  seen  in  that 
house,  and  never  seen  again  ? "  she  asked,  in  clear,  low, 
vibrating  tones.  "  Was  it  conjecture  that  he  came  there 
overflowing  with  God-given  life,  filled  with  eager  love 
for  his  children  and  anxiety  to  be  with  them  again,  and 
from  that  moment  the  life  and  the  love  and  the  anxiety 
perished  from  the  earth,  and  his  children  stretched  aout 
empty  hands  and  called  his  name  into  blank  space? 
Was  it  conjecture  that  his  ring  —  his  —  was  found  in 
the  cave  where  men  say  that  Kennedy  Poteet  was  in 
the  habit  of  burying  his  victims  ?  Even  his  son  does 
not  deny  the  charge." 

She  was  looking  at  him  with  eyes  dark  as  night,  but 
kindling  with  a  smothered  fire.  They  challenged  him. 
He  gazed  into  them,  and  hesitated. 

"Miss  Mozingo,"  he  said,  "until  hit's  plumb  proved, 
hit  does  nary  thing  but  add  to  your  sorrow  to  make  so 
powerful  sure  he  died  as  you  think.  Why  should  it 
please  you  to  believe  so  cruel  a  thing  ? " 

"Why  does  it  please  me?"  she  repeated,  with  angry 
scorn.  "  Is  it  question  of  pleasure  or  pain  ?  Can  be- 
lieving or  disbelieving  undo  the  deed  ?  The  death  was 
his.  I  can  at  least  bear  to  believe  it  —  and  to  seek  to 
win  justice  for  him." 

"  Yet  you  may  be  bearing  an  imaginary  sorrow,  and 
putting  on  another  an  undeserved  punishment,"  he  said, 
more  gently  still. 

"  Undeserved  ? "  Her  eyes  were  flaming  now.  They 
blazed  into  his. 

"Yes,"  he  said.  "  Hit  impossible  that  even  Kennedy 
Poteet  does  not  deserve  all  your  condemnation.  Hit  is 
certain  that  his  son  does  not." 

She  looked  at  him  for  one  long  minute  in  perfect 
silence.  He  met  the  gaze  of  those  scornful  eyes  steadily. 

"  He  is  his  son,"  she  said,  "  inheritor  of  all  that  could 
by  ary  possibility  descend  from  parent  to  child.  The 
shame  of  his  father's  sin  is  his." 


224  VISITING  THE    SIN 

"  And  hit  is  for  being  his  father's  son  that  you  con- 
demn him  ? "  he  asked,  in  the  same  gentle  tone. 

"  Yes.  Should  the  family  of  the  murderer  go  free, 
and  the  family  of  the  murdered  suffer  ? "  she  demanded. 
"  Upon  whom  should  the  punishment  fall  if  not  upon 
his  children  and  his  kin  ?  They  are  one  with  him." 

"  In  a  measure,  yes,"  he  said.  "  And  you  make  no 
distinction  ? " 

"  None.     Why  should  I  ? "  she  replied. 

He  stood  looking  at  her  for  a  moment,  and  then 
turned. 

"  Shall  we  go  back  ? "  he  asked. 

He  would  have  taken  her  hand  again  to  help  her  over 
the  swell  of  the  hill,  but  she  kept  it  by  her  side.  They 
walked  back  along  the  moonlit  path  in  absolute  silence. 
To  Naomi  the  beauty  was  gone  from  the  night. 

"  Miss  Mozingo,  will  you  come  back  along  this  road 
to-morrow  night  ?  "  he  said  at  last.  «  I  have  something 
I  want  to  tell  you  —  down  there  by  the  old  house." 

They  were  nearing  the  mill.  She  stopped,  and  looked 
at  him. 

"  Why  should  I  ? "  she  asked  coldly.  "  To  you  my 
feeling  is  nothing  but  folly.  Your  sympathies  are  upon 
the  other  side.  The  question  does  not  touch  you  per- 
sonally. Why  should  we  talk  of  it  further  ? " 

"  Doesn't  touch  me  ? "  he  said.  "  Thar  agin  hit's  best 
not  to  be  plumb  sure.  You  shall  judge  of  that  after 
to-morrow.  You  will  come  ? " 

The  keen  blue  eyes  were  fixed  on  hers.  There  was 
something  compelling  as  well  as  entreating  in  them.  In 
truth,  the  compelling  force  was  stronger  than  the  sup- 
plicatory. Naomi  yielded. 

"  If  it's  a  pretty  night,"  she  said. 

His  eyes  thanked  her.  For  himself,  he  turned  away, 
and  left  her  to  go  on  to  the  house  alone. 

Why  was  it  that  the  glory  had  gone  out  of  the  moon- 


VISITING   THE   SIN  225 


light  and  the  springtide  had  lost  its  gladness?  Why, 
because  Marshall  Lane  did  not  agree  with  her,  should 
the  night  be  suddenly  robbed  of  its  grandeur  and  the 
world  look  cold  and  gloomy  ?  His  attitude  placed  him 
in  the  ranks  of  those  whom  she  had  come  to  regard  as 
her  enemies.  Well,  there  were  others  relegated  to  those 
ranks  before  ;  but  it  had  never  troubled  her  unduly. 

"  Where  is  Marshall  Lane  ?  I  thought  he  went  aout 
with  you." 

Dalbert  was  standing  by  the  door. 

"  He  did/'  replied  Naomi.  "  But  he  found  the  moon- 
light pleasant.  He  turned  back  a  minute  ago." 

"  I  reckon  he'll  soon  be  in." 

Naomi  was  not  so  sure,  but  she  left  her  doubts  unex- 
pressed. 

"  I  want  to  have  a  talk  with  him,"  continued  her 
brother.  "  If  nothing  new  turns  up  in  the  morning, 
we'll  overhaul  that  machinery  to-morrow.  Then,  if  he's 
in  a  hurry  to  be  getting  away  after  his  own  business,  it 
won't  hinder  us." 

"  Does  he  want  to  go  away  ?  " 

"  I  reckon  he  does,"  said  Dalbert.  "  He  said  some- 
thing of  the  sort  to-day." 

Again  there  came  to  Naomi  a  feeling  of  chill.  She 
had  noticed  in  Marshall  Lane  no  signs  of  haste.  If  he 
were  anxious  to  be  gone  he  had  not  betrayed  the  feeling 
to  her. 

Dalbert  made  no  arrangements  about  the  machinery 
that  night.  He  was  asleep  when  Marshall  Lane  came 
in.  Naomi  was  not. 

When  Will  Hollingsworth  rode  along  the  "  branch  " 
about  noon  of  the  following  day,  he  noticed  two  things  : 
first  that  something  was  wrong  at  the  mill,  and  second 
that  a  stranger  who  was  standing  by  Naomi's  side  had 
just  taken  a  bucket  from  the  girl's  hand  and  was  stoop- 
ing to  dip  it  into  the  stream.  He  filled  it  to  overflowing, 


226  VISITING   THE    SIN 

and  lifted  it  brimming  from  the  bed  of  the  "  branch." 
As  he  turned  to  carry  it  indoors,  their  eyes  met, — the 
blue  ones  and  the  dark  ones.  Just  what  those  eyes  said 
to  each  other,  Will  did  not  know  ;  but  he  did  know  that 
of  the  two  unusual  circumstances,  the  stationary  condi- 
tion of  the  machinery  and  the  advent  of  a  stranger,  he 
was  inclined  to  investigate  the  latter  first.  He  rode  up 
to  the  door  as  the  summons  for  dinner  was  given. 

"  I'm  in  luck  !  Naomi,  keep  guard  over  that  seat  of 
mine.  I'm  here  to  take  possession  of  it." 

He  was  still  on  his  horse's  back,  but  he  had  bent 
down  to  look  in.  The  girl  turned  at  his  words. 

"  I'll  see  that  there  is  a  mouthful  of  something  or 
other  left  for  you  to  eat,"  she  said  carelessly. 

She  did  not  come  to  the  door.  She  was  busy  putting 
dinner  on  the  table. 

When  Will  drew  himself  up  on  the  saddle  there  was 
a  scowl  on  his  face.  He  turned,  and  saw  Dalbert  Mo- 
zingo, 

"Who's  that  feller?" 

"  Which  ? " 

"  The  feller  in  there  with  your  sister." 

"  Oh !  Marshall  Lane.  We've  had  a  break  in  the 
machinery.  He's  putting  it  right." 

"  In  there  ? " 

"No."  Dalbert  looked  into  the  mill  owner's  face, 
and  a  smile  played  for  a  moment  over  his  own. 

"  It's  noon,"  he  continued.  "  We've  left  off  for  din- 
ner." 

"  Does  he  eat  here  ? " 

"Yes  —  with  the  rest." 

Will  sprang  from  his  horse. 

"I'm  going  to  see  after  this  beast,"  he  said.  "I'll 
be  in  directly.  When  are  you  aimin'  to  get  the  mill 
running  again  ? " 

"  To-morrow,"  replied  Dalbert.  "  It  was  running  yes- 
terday." 


VISITING   THE    SIN  227 

Will  made  no  answer.  He  was  leading  his  horse 
away.  Dalbert  went  into  the  house  with  a  smile  on  his 
face. 

There  was  a  noticeable  absence  of  smiles  on  Will 
Hollingsworth's  face.  He  ate  his  dinner  and  took  obser- 
vations. Then  he  went  to  the  mill. 

It  would  have  suited  the  present  mood  of  the  mill 
owner  better  if  he  could  have  found  something  to  grum- 
ble at.  His  feelings  were  not  amiable.  But  beyond 
the  breakdown  of  the  machinery,  which  could  by  no 
possibility  be  laid  to  the  account  of  the  superintendent, 
there  was  more  to  commend  than  to  criticise.  He  exam- 
ined the  damaged  parts,  stood  for  a  few  minutes  watching 
Marshall  Lane  without  speaking,  and  then  followed  Dal- 
bert out  of  the  mill. 

"  How  did  that  feller  come  here  ? "  he  demanded. 

"  Walked,  as  fur  as  I  know,"  replied  Dal.  "  Heard 
we'd  had  a  breakdown." 

"Who  told  him?"  snapped  Will.  "And  who  asked 
him  to  stick  hims&i  into  the  mess  ?  He's  plumb  full  of 
conceit.  Who  is  he,  anyhow  ? " 

"A  powerful  useful  feller,"  answered  Dal  quickly. 
"He's  been  about  the  country  pretty  much,  so  he  says. 
He  seems  to  understand  his  business." 

"  Understand !  How  do  you  know  what  he  under- 
stands ? "  demanded  the  mill  owner.  "  What  do  you 
know  about  it  ?  If  you'd  understood  what  was  the 
matter,  you  could  have  set  it  right.  You  don't  know 
whether  or  not  he's  fooling  you,  and  more  don't  I.  I 
ain't  so  powerful  struck  with  him  as  the  rest  of  you  seem 
to  be." 

"Tell  him  to  leave  things  alone  then,"  replied  Dal- 
bert coolly.  "  You  can  get  somebody  from  one  of  the 
cities  to  come  and  look  at  the  break." 

The  mill  owner's  answer  was  not  polite.  He  turned 
his  back  on  his  superintendent  and  strode  off  down  the 
stream.  Dalbert  went  back  into  the  mill. 


228  VISITING   THE    SIN 

Wherever  Will  Hollingsworth  spent  that  afternoon, 
it  was  not  in  the  vicinity  of  his  own  premises.  It  may 
be  inferred  that  he  found  his  occupation  satisfactory, 
since  it  materially  improved  his  temper.  He  came  back 
to  the  boarding-house  an  hour  before  supper  time,  whist- 
ling cheerily. 

"  Hullo,  Naomi !  Want  ary  help  —  about  fetching 
water,  or  such  like  ? " 

He  had  a  smile  and  a  keen  glance  for  the  girl  who 
sat  on  the  doorstep  gazing  into  the  strip  of  blue  sky  in 
which  the  opposite  hill  seemed  to  be  trying  to  bury  its 
head.  The  dark  eyes  were  incomprehensible  this  after- 
noon. Will  was  none  the  wiser  for  his  scrutiny. 

"  I'm  not  plumb  sure  there's  ary  thing  for  you  to 
turn  your  hand  to,"  she  said.  "  Have  you  been  idle  so 
long  that  you're  suffering  for  want  of  occupation  ? " 

"  Yes, —  occupation  of  the  right  sort,  and  for  the  right 
person,"  he  said,  standing  close  to  her  and  looking 
down  upon  the  dark,  shapely  head.  "  Got  all  you  wanted 
done  this  morning,  didn't  you  ? " 

"  Yes,"  replied  the  girl,  raising  her  eyes  to  his.  "  I'm 
not  in  the  habit  of  making  my  work  last  till  ni-ight." 

She  let  her  eyes  drop  slowly  to  the  waters  of  the 
"  branch."  As  for  his,  they  never  moved. 

"  Had  a  mighty  willing  assistant  when  I  came  along 
at  noon,  hadn't  you  ? " 

She  lifted  her  eyes  again,  swept  them  over  the  face 
and  figure  before  her,  and  returned  them  to  their  quiet 
survey  of  the  stream. 

"  I  ain't  powerful  fond  of  having  assistants  that  are 
not  willing,"  she  said. 

"And  you  ain't  powerful  likely  to  find  them,"  he 
laughed.  "  As  for  that  whipper-snapper  feller,  I  reckon 
you  know  plumb  all  about  hi-im,  and  don't  need  me  to 
tell  you.  If  it  warn't  so,  I  could  pitch  into  a  story  that's 
clear  aout  of  the  common  order." 


VISITING   THE    SIN  229 

"  Have  you  been  for  two  weeks  outside  of  Big  Creek 
Gap,  and  found  nothing  better  to  tell  than  the  gossip  of 
this  little  place  ? "  asked  Naomi  coolly.  "  Will  Hollings- 
worth  must  have  plumb  wasted  his  time." 

"  Oh,  my  experiences  will  save,"  he  responded.  "  I 
ain't  expecting  to  have  ary  to  match  those  of  Marshall 
Lane  Rutherford." 

He  was  watching  her  face.  It  was  distinctly  unin- 
terested. 

"  Marshall  Lane  didn't  tell  you  he'd  got  another  inch 
or  so  to  his  name,  did  he  ? "  he  continued. 

The  dark  eyes  scanned  him  critically. 

"  Do  you  mean  the  young  man  who  has  come  to  mend 
your  machinery  ? " 

"  I  reckon,"  replied  the  mill  owner. 

"An  inch  more  or  less  was  of  little  moment,"  she 
answered  coldly.  "He  gave  enough  to  distinguish  him 
by." 

"Did  he?  That's  the  question,"  laughed  Will.  "I 
venture  to  say  he'd  be  better  distinguished  by  the  whole 
than  by  the  part.  Left  out  the  best  end." 

"Possibly,"  she  said.  "If  the  best  end  of  a  man's 
name  is  like  his  character,  it's  seldom  at  the  front." 

"  Better  tell  Marshall  Lane  Rutherford  that,"  he  said. 
"  Nice  honest  sort  of  feller,  ain't  he  ? " 

"I'm  not  presuming  to  decide  that  question,"  she 
responded.  "Honesty  is  scarce  —  even  among  one's 
friends.  It  would  be  wiser  to  go  and  make  his  acquaint- 
ance, and  judge  for  yourself.  If  he  cheats  you-u,  it  will 
be  your  own  fault." 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know  that  I'm  afraid  he  should  cheat 
me"  he  replied,  with  a  chuckle.  " The  danger  don't  lie 
in  that  direction.  He's  aimin'  higher  than  me-e." 

She  settled  herself  in  a  more  comfortable  position, 
and  let  the  subject  drop.  Will  found  the  outcome  of 
his  efforts  unsatisfactory.  He  returned  to  the  attack. 


230  VISITING   THE    SIN 

"  Keeps  his  affairs  pretty  close,  don't  he  ? " 

"We-el,"  replied  the  girl,  with  an  air  of  reflection, 
"  it  depends  on  what  you  call  close.  Perhaps  he  does. 
He  has  never  told  me  exactly  how  much  money  he  pos- 
sesses, nor  explained  explicitly  his  plans  for  the  future, 
nor  even  opened  his  mind  on  other  subjects, —  such  as 
his  opinion  of  the  men  he  meets  here  in  the  village.  On 
second  thoughts  he  is  a  little  wanting  in  frankness. 
Now  I  think  of  it,  he  has  never  picked  another  man's 
character  to  shreds  once ;  and  of  course  by  such  abstain- 
ing he  has  refrained  from  showing  his  own.  Depend 
upon  it,  you're  right.  He's  close, —  powerful  close." 

She  looked  at  the  mill  owner  quizzically,  and  relapsed 
into  silence. 

For  a  moment  the  smile  left  his  face,  and  the  first 
beginning  of  a  scowl  appeared.  It  never  got  further 
than  a  beginning. 

"  I  dare  swear  there's  other  things  he's  been  slow  to 
take  you  into  his  confidence  about,"  he  said,  with  a 
smile.  "  Has  he  ever  chanced  to  take  you  down  to  his 
uncle's  place, —  the  big  house  in  the  hollow  ? " 

If  his  aim  had  been  the  raising  of  those  great  dark 
eyes  again,  he  accomplished  it.  They  lifted  slowly  to 
his  face. 

"  His  uncle's  house  ? " 

Her  voice  was  well  under  control.  It  expressed 
nothing  but  cool  surprise. 

"  Yes, — his  uncle's, —  old  Kennedy  Poteet's.  Marshall 
Lane  Rutherford  is  old  Ken's  favourite  nephew.  He 
ought  to  do  the  honours.  If  it  ain't  his  now,  it  may  be 
some  day.  He  got  plenty  of  the  old  man's  money,  if  he 
didn't  get  the  house." 

"  Are  you  telling  me  the  truth  ? " 

The  question  did  not  imply  an  overwhelming  amount 
of  confidence  on  the  part  of  the  speaker.  Naomi  asked 
it  quietly. 


VISITING   THE    SIN  231 

The  mill  owner  passed  over  the  implied  suspicion 
silently. 

"  It's  just  as  I  heard  it,"  he  said.  "  Nobody  knew 
him  when  he  first  came  back.  He'd  altered  since  he 
was  a  boy." 

She  looked  at  him  steadily  for  a  full  minute  without 
speaking.  Then  she  rose  from  her  low  seat  on  the 
step. 

"He  will  have  finished  your  machinery  to-night,"  she 
said.  "After  that  he  can  find  accommodation  in  the 
village." 

She  turned,  and  went  into  the  house.  In  the  doorway 
she  stopped. 

"The  fire  must  be  tolerable  near  dead,"  she  said. 
"  I  wish  you'd  bring  me  an  armful  of  wood." 

"  Powerful  cool !  "  muttered  Will  Hollingsworth,  as  he 
selected  the  sticks  from  the  pile.  "  But  that's  an  end 
of  hi-imr 

"He  was  an  impudent  rascal  to  push  himself  in  here. 
I  had  my  doubts  as  soon  as  I  set  eyes  on  him." 

The  mill  owner  deposited  his  wood  on  the  floor  with  a 
crash,  and  straightened  himself  to  look  at  the  girl.  She 
made  him  no  answer. 

"  Ever  let  him  know  your  feeling  towards  the  Poteet 
family?" 

She  looked  at  him  with  a  quick  flash  in  her  eyes. 

"Yes." 

Will  chuckled. 

"  Didn't  agree  with  you,  I  reckon." 

"  No." 

A  scornful  smile  crossed  her  lips. 

"  Not  altogether  likely  that  he  would,"  she  added,  a 
moment  later.  "  Well  —  he's  done  his  work,  and  that's 
an  end  of  him." 

"  Only  there's  two  instead  of  one  to  bear  old  Ken's 
sins  now,"  said  the  mill  owner  ;  "  and  you've  got  two  on 


232  VISITING   THE    SIN 

whom  to  visit  justice.  He's  in  the  same  list  with  Ab 
Poteet." 

The  words  had  the  sound  of  a  challenge. 

For  barely  a  moment  the  girl  hesitated.  Then  she 
lifted  her  head  and  looked  him  squarely  in  the  face. 

"Yes,"  she  said,  "he's  in  the  same  list." 

When  the  men  came  in  to  tea  that  night  Marshall 
Lane  was  not  with  them.  It  would  require  another 
hour's  work  to  put  the  machinery  in  running  order.  He 
had  decided  to  stay  and  finish. 

"  I  told  him  I'd  see  you  kept  his  supper  for  him,"  said 
Dalbert,  with  a  quiet  smile  at  his  sister. 

"  It's  powerful  dangerous  to  make  promises  for  ary 
person  but  yourself,"  said  Naomi,  in  a  tone  he  did  not 
quite  understand. 

He  looked  from  her  to  the  mill  owner,  and  then  began 
talking  about  the  machinery.  He  kept  up  the  talk  till 
supper  was  over. 

"  Shall  I  tell  Marshall  to  come  in  for  his  supper  when 
he's  finished?" 

Dal  had  followed  his  sister  into  the  kitchen. 

"No." 

He  looked  at  her  inquiringly. 

«  What's  up  ? "  he  asked. 

"The  nephew  of  Kennedy  Poteet  may  go  hungry, 
but  he  can't  eat  in  thi-is  house,"  she  said. 

"  Nonsense !  He's  eat  here  times  enough  before. 
He's  no  worse  to-day  than  he  was  yesterday." 

She  turned  on  him  sharply. 

"  Did  you  know  he  was  Kennedy  Poteet's  nephew  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

The  look  she  gave  him  was  full  comment. 

"  How  long  have  you  known  ? "  she  asked. 

"  Since  yesterday." 

"  Who  told  you  ? " 

"  He  did,"  replied  Dalbert.  "  He'd  have  told  you, — 
he  wanted  to  tell  you.  You'd  better  let  him  explain." 


VISITING   THE    SIN  233 

"  He's  had  plenty  of  chance,"  she  said.  "  But  there 
is  nothing  to  explain,  except  how  he  dared  to  come  here. 
He  is  the  nephew  of  my  father's  murderer.  That  needs 
no  explanation." 

"  And  you  won't  give  him  his  supper  ? " 

«  No." 

Dal  went  out,  and  slammed  the  door  behind  him. 
Will  looked  in  a  few  minutes  later  and  was  politely  as- 
sured that  the  air  outside  was  cooler  than  that  within, 
and  that  the  fewer  people  there  were  inside,  the  better 
for  those  who  must  remain.  He  went  out. 

The  moon  was  getting  high  in  the  heavens  when 
Marshall  Lane  Rutherford  knocked  imperatively  at  the 
door  of  the  room  which  Naomi  reserved  as  her  private 
sitting-room. 

"  Miss  Mozingo,"  he  said,  "  I  have  gathered  together 
my  belongings.  The  work  at  the  mill  is  finished." 

"  If  it  is  satisfactory,  Dalbert  or  Will  Hollingsworth 
will  settle  with  you,  I  have  no  doubt,"  she  replied  coldly. 

"  I  reckon.  I  hain't  afraid  of  the  money,"  he  said. 
"  Miss  Mozingo,  I've  come  to  ask  for  the  fulfilment  of 
your  promise.  Hit's  a  pretty  night." 

She  rose,  and  came  to  the  door  of  the  room. 

"  You  dare  to  ask  that  ? "  she  said  quietly. 

"  Is  hit  dangerous  ? " 

He  was  smiling,  his  face  on  a  level  with  hers. 

"  Yes,"  she  replied,  in  a  low,  cool  tone. 

"  Nevertheless,  I  think  you  owe  hit  to  me,"  he  said. 

"  Owe  it  to  you, —  to  you  !  " 

"Certainly,"  he  insisted.  "Last  night  you  gave  me 
your  side  of  the  argument.  To-night  I  want  to  give 
you  mine.  Nary  one  sided  case  can  be  just." 

"  It  is  not  for  kin  of  Kennedy  Poteet  to  call  for  jus- 
tice," she  said.  "The  justice  might  come." 

He  looked  at  her  regretfully. 

"I'm   powerful   sorry  somebody  has   been   ahead  of 


234  VISITING   THE    SIN 

me,"  he  said.  "  I  wanted  to  tell  you  myself  —  and  take 
the  consequences." 

"The  consequences  are  not  likely  to  escape  you,"  she 
replied. 

"No  —  I  see  that.  Miss  Mozingo,  won't  you  let  me 
plead  my  cause  ? " 

"  You  have  no  cause  to  plead,"  she  said  coldly. 
"Kennedy  Poteet  was  a  thief  and  a  murderer.  His 
nephew  can  hardly  lay  claim  to  being  an  honest  man." 

He  looked  at  her  for  a  moment  in  silence,  then  drew 
himself  up  proudly. 

"  I  understand  you,"  he  said.  "  You  would  accuse 
me  of  stealing  into  your  house  unannounced.  I  plead 
guilty,  if  hit  is  guilty  to  come  and  investigate  for  my- 
self. You  set  yourself  to  ruin  an  innocent  man, —  yes, 
an  innocent  man  ;  for,  if  ever  thar  was  an  innocent  man, 
hit's  Abner  Poteet.  I  had  not  been  in  the  neigh- 
bourhood since  I  was  a  boy.  I  heard  the  story  by  acci- 
dent, came  back  before  ary  one  in  the  valley  knew  me, 
and  learned  that  the  machinery  at  the  mill  had  broken 
down.  I  came  to  see  for  myself, —  the  machinery  and 
the  enemy.  Miss  Mozingo,  before  I  had  been  in  this 
house  twenty-four  hours,  I  changed  my  mind  abaout  the 
character  of  the  enemy  as  fully  as  you  would  change 
yours  abaout  Abner  Poteet,  if  you  would  let  yourself 
know  the  man  —  as  I  learned  to  know  the  woman." 

His  voice  dropped  a  little  at  the  last  words.  He  was 
watching  her  face.  It  was  hard  and  cold,  with  that  par- 
adoxical coldness  that  suggests  hidden  fire.  There  was 
only  a  momentary  pause,  but  after  it  his  tone  changed  — 
slightly,  but  perceptibly.  It  was  a  little  less  urgent,  had 
lost  a  tinge  of  gentleness. 

"  Miss  Mozingo,  I  have  failed,"  he  said.  "  I  hoped  to 
convince  you  that  evil  was  not  the  only  characteristic 
of  those  who,  willingly  or  unwillingly,  were  related  to 
the  old  man." 


VISITING   THE   SIN  235 

His  eyes  caught  a  gleam  in  hers,  and  he  stopped. 

"  Yes,  you  have  failed,"  she  said ;  and  he  noticed  that 
the  lips  took  a  scornful  curve. 

"  I  know  hit,"  he  replied.  "  You  think  hit  was  what 
I  might  have  expected.  Well,  I  judged  otherwise.  I 
hoped  to  persuade  you  yet  to  do  justice  to  the  old 
man's  son.  I  confess  —  for  I  may  as  well  make  a  clean 
breast  of  hit — to  a  still  more  daring  desire,  the  wish 
to  see  the  noblest  side  of  a  nature  that  could  be  noble 
git  a  mastery  over  the  ignoble  side,  the  passion  for  cruel 
vengeance.  I've  failed.  I'm  ready  to  take  the  conse- 
quences. I  cain't  help  being  my  uncle's  nephew.  I 
would  not,  if  I  could,  help  being  Abner's  cousin.  I  only 
wish  I  was  as  fine  a  feller  as  he  is.  You  can  think  of 
us  as  one.  I'm  plumb  sure  you'll  be  willing  to." 

Marshall  Lane's  head  was  held  a  little  higher  than 
usual  at  the  last  words.  He  looked  the  girl  in  the  face 
with  a  glance  that  was  little  suggestive  of  overwhelming 
shame.  And  as  he  looked,  he  saw  the  colour  sweep  for 
a  moment  over  cheek  and  brow,  and  then  recede. 

"  I'm  going  to  stay  with  Ab  for  a  time,"  he  said. 

She  did  not  answer,  and  he  turned  away. 

"Good-night." 

He  had  stopped  a  step  from  the  door  to  fling  back 
the  word,  with  a  smile. 

"  Good-night." 

The  answer  was  grave  and  low.     It  told  him  nothing. 

He  heard  her  door  close  behind  him  as  he  went  out 
into  the  moonlight. 


236  VISITING  THE   SIN 


CHAPTER   XVI 

THE  night  on  which  Marshall  Lane  Rutherford 
turned  his  back  on  the  house  beneath  the  hill 
was  as  "  pretty  "  as  the  preceding  one  had  been. 
The  moonlight  was  as  clear,  and  the  air  as  soft.  Both 
made  their  way  in  at  the  window  of  a  room  where  a  girl 
stood  looking  out  into  the  brightness,  and  feeling  more 
in  keeping  with  storm  and  darkness  than  with  the  soft 
splendour  that  flooded  the  world  and  made  the  beautiful, 
scornful  face  clearly  visible. 

For  it  was  full  of  scorn, —  scorn  of  herself  and  of 
another.  Why  should  the  "prettiness"  of  the  night 
mock  her  with  the  thought  that  but  for  Will  Hollings- 
worth's  discovery  she  would  now  have  been  following 
the  rocky  road  with  Marshall  Lane  by  her  side  ?  She 
turned  from  the  suggestion  with  a  curl  of  the  lip,  an 
added  scorn  of  herself.  What  should  she  be  doing  on 
that  path  with  Kennedy  Poteet's  nephew  for  a  com- 
panion ? 

The  knowledge  of  the  relationship  had  come  upon 
Naomi  with  a  shock.  Marshall  Lane's  departure  left 
her  angry  and  disturbed.  Indignation  that  the  nephew 
of  her  father's  murderer  should  dare  to  set  foot  inside 
her  door  divided  her  feeling  with  outraged  pride  that 
demanded  to  know  by  what  right  Marshall  Lane  had 
presumed  to  argue  with  her  as  if  there  were  justice  in 
his  cause.  He  had  hoped  to  alter  the  situation  !  How 
dare  he  think  that  his  coming  could  make  any  differ- 
ence? 

And  yet —  it  Itad  made  a  difference ;  it  did  make  a 
difference.  Naomi  was  not  a  girl  to  cheat  herself  with 


VISITING   THE    SIN  237 

a  garbled  report  of  her  own  feelings.  She  spared  her- 
self no  scorn.  Marshall  Lane  had  said  that  he  had 
failed.  If  that  had  been  an  unmodified  truth,  the  girl 
would  not  have  stood  with  the  angry  bitterness  in  her 
heart,  looking  with  darkening  eyes  into  the  moonlight. 
How  dare  he  put  her  in  this  difficulty  ?  For  Naomi 
acknowledged  that  in  her  own  mind  the  situation  was 
changed.  The  way,  which  before  had  been  clear,  had 
suddenly  grown  difficult.  It  had  been  easy  to  think  of 
the  innkeeper's  son  as  one  who  by  character  and  inheri- 
tance was  outside  the  pale  of  her  sympathy,  one  with 
whom  justice,  and  not  brotherly  kindness,  should  be 
called  to  deal.  Her  arguments  had  been  strong.  She 
had  convinced  herself  with  them.  And  she  had  included 
in  her  condemnation  all  who  were  kin  to  the  old  man, 
though  she  had  known  of  none  but  Abner.  She  remem- 
bered how  positively  she  had  declared  to  Marshall  Lane 
that  she  made  no  distinction.  Well,  it  was  true.  She 
had  made  none  ;  she  could  make  none.  But  the  sweep- 
ing assertions  of  the  preceding  night  stood  out  in  a 
very  different  light  now  that  she  found  herself  forced  to 
apply  them  to  Marshall  Lane.  She  felt  a  wave  of  colour 
rush  to  her  forehead  as  she  recalled  her  own  words. 

Not  that  justice  had  shifted  ground.  The  facts 
remained  as  before  Marshall  Lane  Rutherford  appeared 
on  the  scene.  Only  between  herself  and  the  vengeance 
she  had  desired  to  see  fall  upon  the  house  of  Poteet 
there  had  come  the  vision  of  a  pair  of  blue  eyes.  It  was 
easy  to  think  of  Abner  Poteet  in  the  light  in  which  she 
had  accustomed  herself  to  think  of  him.  It  was  not 
easy  to  think  of  Marshall  Lane  in  the  same  light.  Yet 
she  could  not  apply  one  set  of  rules  to  the  son  and 
another  to  the  nephew.  Both  were  inheritors  of  the  old 
man's  wealth,  the  richer  for  his  sins.  On  both  the 
shadow  of  the  crime  fell.  There  was  no  difference, 
except  that  the  relationship  was  nearer  in  the  one  case 


238  VISITING   THE    SIN 

than  in  the  other.  Consistency  called  for  the  including 
of  the  son  and  nephew  in  the  same  category.  "He's  in 
the  same  list  with  Ab  Poteet,"  Will  Hollingsworth  had 
said.  She  could  no  more  deny  it  now  than  when  the 
words  were  thrown  out  as  a  challenge.  Marshall  him- 
self had  acknowledged  it.  "You  can  think  of  us  as 
one,"  he  had  said  ;  and  she  had  not  contradicted  him. 
Consistency  demanded  that  she  should  think  of  them  as 
one.  It  increased  her  contempt  of  herself  that  she  was 
not  ready  to  meet  consistency  with  open  arms. 

The  moonbeams  had  grown  pale  and  the  world  shad- 
owy before  the  tall,  still  figure  by  the  window  gave  sign 
of  movement.  Consistency  had  won,  as  the  girl  had 
known  from  the  beginning  it  must  win  ;  and  Naomi  sud- 
denly became  conscious  that  limbs  and  brain  were  weary. 
Perhaps  the  thought  of  Will  Hollingsworth,  and  the 
impossibility  of  receding  from  the  position  she  had 
taken,  had  had  something  to  do  with  the  strengthening 
of  the  calls  of  justice.  Perhaps  the  going  forward  pre- 
sented less  difficulty  than  the  going  back. 

When  Will  Hollingsworth  saw  Naomi  again,  she  met 
him  with  a  smile. 

"  We-el,"  she  said,  with  a  scornful  drawl,  "my  boarder 
is  gone ;  and  our  task  has  grown  a  smart  sight  harder. 
Marshall  Lane  Rutherford  will  not  take  the  place  his 
uncle  has  earned  for  him  without  a  ///-tie  struggle." 

"  He'll  take  it,  though,"  replied  Will,  with  a  scowl. 

«Yes  —  he'll  ta-ake  it,"  she  said,  looking  straight  into 
his  eyes. 

Will  Hollingsworth  understood  that  consistency  had 
won.  He  understood  a  little  more,  and  that  extra  piece 
of  intuition  put  into  the  struggle  a  personal  element  that 
had  been  lacking  before.  Up  to  the  present  moment 
he  had  been  labouring  in  Naomi's  cause.  The  cause 
had  suddenly  become  his  own.  In  seeking  to  bring 
vengeance  on  Abner  Poteet  he  had  been  pursuing  the 


VISITING   THE    SIN  239 

man  who  to  Naomi  represented  her  father's  murderer, 
in  turning  his  weapons  against  Marshall  Lane  Ruther- 
ford he  was  pursuing  a  man  who  stood  as  a  possible 
rival  to  himself.  The  pursuit  had  gained  in  excitement. 

Will  had  from  the  first  been  guided  by  his  anxiety  to 
please  Naomi.  It  had  suited  his  purpose  to  carry  out 
her  wishes.  Now  his  own  wishes  had  become  engaged. 
From  following  the  dictates  of  a  sagacious  policy  he 
turned  to  the  more  engrossing  pursuit  of  fulfilling  the 
desires  of  his  own  heart.  There  was  a  difference. 

In  the  next  few  weeks  a  sharp  division  of  feeling 
manifested  itself  in  Big  Creek  Gap.  Will  was  not  often 
at  home  in  the  evenings  now.  The  village  saw  more  of 
the  mill  owner  than  it  had  ever  done  before.  The 
creation  of  a  wave  of  popular  sentiment  in  a  small  com- 
munity differs  little  in  character  from  the  earliest  begin- 
nings of  those  popular  movements  that  work  in  a  more 
extended  field.  The  public  press  is  wanting  in  the  first 
case  ;  but  there  is  always  the  same  impressionable  human 
nature  to  operate  upon,  the  same  subtle  working  of 
many  and  often  dissimilar  forces,  that,  set  in  motion 
from  different  points  and  from  different  motives,  com- 
bine to  produce  the  final  result.  Much  depends  in  every 
case  on  the  perseverance  and  powers  of  resource  of  the 
leader.  Will  Hollingsworth  was  an  indefatigable  worker, 
not  easily  daunted,  one,  moreover,  who  knew  how  to 
change  his  tactics  with  every  change  of  hearer.  He 
had  decided  that  Big  Creek  Gap  should  become  an 
undesirable  place  of  residence  for  Marshall  Rutherford. 
Much  of  the  work  had  been  already  accomplished.  When 
Marshall  Lane  Rutherford  came  to  Big  Creek  Gap,  the 
friends  of  Abner  Poteet  were  in  a  constantly  diminishing 
minority.  The  first  result  of  his  appearance  was  a 
revival  of  the  courage  of  those  who  had  not  yet  gone 
over  to  the  majority,  and  a  tendency  among  the  weaker 
members  of  the  opposite  party  to  adopt  a  policy  of  neu- 


240  VISITING   THE    SIN 

trality.  The  return  of  Will  Hollingsworth,  and  the 
vigour  of  the  campaign  at  once  established,  sent  the  tide 
rolling  back  with  increased  energy. 

If  Marshall  Rutherford  had  known  the  real  state  of 
public  opinion,  it  is  possible  that  he  would  never  have 
come  to  Big  Creek  Gap  ;  but,  being  there,  he  stayed.  He 
did  more.  He  made  up  his  mind  that  the  current  of 
feeling  should  be  changed.  With  the  image  of  a  proud, 
cold  face  before  him,  and  a  fair  amount  of  honest  anger 
stirring  in  his  heart,  he  bent  himself  to  the  undoing  of  a 
girl's  work.  The  trial  of  strength  between  him  and  this 
girl  was  not  altogether  distasteful.  Marshall  Lane 
Rutherford  was  not  accustomed  to  scorn,  and  Naomi's 
words  had  been  proud.  The  blue  eyes  flashed  more 
than  once  as  he  recalled  those  words,  but  the  lips  never 
lost  their  confident  smile. 

With  a  quiet  energy  altogether  unlike  Will  Hollings- 
worth's  aggressive  tactics,  he  set  himself  to  counteract 
the  influences  at  work,  fully  understanding  that  the  task 
would  neither  be  short  nor  easy.  He  entered  the  con- 
test deliberately  and  of  set  purpose,  realising  the  strength 
of  the  adversary.  The  verdict  of  Big  Creek  Gap  was 
the  stake  for  which  both  sides  were  playing,  and  the 
enemy  had  the  advantage.  Marshall  Rutherford  pro- 
posed to  turn  the  tables. 

"  We  shall  win  yet,  Ab,  my  boy,"  he  said ;  but  the 
tone  was  not  without  a  trace  of  bitterness. 

Underneath  the  words,  and  the  resolution  they  em- 
bodied, there  was  a  little  soreness  of  heart  at  the  memory 
of  a  shapely  head  and  a  pair  of  scornful  eyes,  and  the 
knowledge  that  the  girl  to  whom  both  belonged  was  the 
leader  of  the  opposing  forces. 

Ab  shook  his  head. 

"  I  hain't  expectin'  to  win,"  he  said.  "  You  may. 
You  hain't  his  son.  The  sins  o*  the  fathers  don't  reach 
you,  maybe." 


VISITING   THE   SIN  241 

"  I  hope  not,"  said  Marshall.  "  I've  got  enough  to 
do  to  answer  for  my  own.  I  hain't  like  you,  Ab.  If 
you  hadn't  nary  other  person's  sins  on  your  shoulders, 
you'd  go  plumb  free." 

Ab  shook  his  head  again,  disapprovingly. 

"  You  hain't  realism',"  he  said.  "  Thar's  a  powerful 
sight  of  evil  in  sin." 

Two  or  three  times  during  the  next  month  Naomi 
met  Marshall  Lane  Rutherford  face  to  face.  On  the 
first  occasion  a  smile  accompanied  his  "good-evening." 
It  was  hard  to  believe  that  between  himself  and  this 
girl  there  was  to  be  unrelenting  enmity.  At  no  future 
meeting  was  the  smile  in  evidence.  Naomi  told  herself 
she  was  glad  that  opportunity  had  occurred  for  her  to 
make  clear  to  Marshall  Lane  Rutherford  the  relation 
that  existed  between  them.  Then  she  took  herself  to 
task  for  the  nature  of  the  gladness,  and  held  her  head  a 
little  higher  for  the  rest  of  the  day,  in  proud  scorn, — 
whether  of  herself  or  another  did  not  appear. 

After  two  or  three  such  encounters,  however,  the 
disturbing  cause  ceased.  In  her  journeys  to  and  from 
the  village  she  no  longer  met  Marshall  Rutherford. 

She  did  not  ask  why.  The  name  of  the  young  ma- 
chinist was  seldom  mentioned  by  her.  Will  Hollings- 
worth  could  have  enlightened  her,  had  he  chosen.  But 
he  did  not  choose.  He  had  gained  a  little  personal 
knowledge  of  Kennedy  Poteet's  nephew  in  the  month 
that  had  passed  since  his  own  return  to  Big  Creek  Gap. 
The  knowledge  had  not  made  him  the  readier  to  accord 
to  the  young  man  a  fair  field  in  the  winning  of  Naomi 
Mozingo.  Will  was  clear  sighted  where  Naomi  was  con- 
cerned. He  did  not  need  to  be  told  that  the  increased 
vigour  with  which  party  feeling  in  the  valley  was  pro- 
moted was  more  in  keeping  with  the  girl's  principles 
than  with  her  feelings.  She  showed  no  sign  of  holding 
back ;  and  there  was  a  certain  proud  triumph  when  she 


242  VISITING   THE    SIN 

saw  that  in  spite  of  Marshall  Rutherford's  appearance 
upon  the  scene,  public  opinion  was  stronger  on  her  side 
than  it  had  ever  been  before.  But  Will  was  not  de- 
ceived into  believing  that  she  regarded  Abner  Poteet 
and  Marshall  Rutherford  in  the  same  light,  though  she 
put  them  in  the  same  category. 

The  knowledge  he  had  gained  of  Marshall  himself 
showed  the  young  man  as  no  insignificant  rival.  He 
was  not  sure  that  in  the  matter  of  wealth  Marshall 
Rutherford  was  not  his  superior.  For  personal  charac- 
teristics,—  well,  he  sneered  at  Marshall  Lane  Ruther- 
ford, and  never  lost  an  opportunity  to  place  him  in  an 
unpleasant  light ;  but  he  was  far  from  despising  him.  It 
was  not  strange,  therefore,  that  he  was  in  no  haste  to 
inform  Naomi  that  sickness  was  the  cause  of  the  young 
man's  absence  from  road  and  field.  Sympathy  was  the 
last  feeling  he  desired  to  invoke  for  his  rival. 

For  the  time  being  Marshall  Rutherford  had  cast  in 
his  lot  with  his  cousin.  Abner 's  crops  never  looked 
better  than  they  did  this  year,  when  Marshall's  lithe 
form  might  any  day  be  seen  in  the  fields  between  Ab- 
ner's  cabin  and  John  Kisselbaugh's  farm.  The  weeds 
had  an  energetic  enemy,  and  succumbed  without  a  strug- 
gle. There  came  a  change,  however,  when  the  hand 
that  had  manipulated  the  hoe  suddenly  lost  its  strength. 

At  first  Marshall  made  light  of  his  illness,  laughing 
at  Abner  when  he  talked  of  a  doctor.  But  when  his 
words  began  to  mix  themselves  in  strange  fashion,  and 
the  blue  eyes  were  either  unaccountably  heavy  or  dan- 
gerously bright,  Ab  took  matters  into  his  own  hands, 
and  went  for  the  disciple  of  medicine. 

Now  it  chanced  that  the  doctor  was  a  man  well 
weighted  with  years,  and  over-fond  of  the  good  things 
of  life.  There  were  days  when  it  was  wisest  for  pa- 
tients not  to  summon  him  in  a  hurry.  Unfortunate 
men,  the  exigencies  of  whose  cases  required  haste,  were 


VISITING   THE    SIN  243 

on  such  occasions  conscious  of  a  lamentable  shakiness 
about  the  fingers  that  encircled  their  wrists,  and  potions 
that  should  have  been  measured  by  drops  fell  into  the 
glass  in  trickling  streams.  If  the  patient  were  wise,  he 
used  his  own  discretion  about  trusting  too  implicitly  to 
those  potions.  If  his  disease  were  of  such  a  nature  as 
to  impair  his  wisdom,  he  drank,  and  took  the  conse- 
quences. 

When  Abner  sought  the  services  of  this  veteran  in 
the  art  of  healing  —  or  otherwise  —  he  was  just  emerg- 
ing from  a  four  days'  seclusion.  He  came,  viewed  the 
patient,  shook  his  head,  which  was  shaky  enough  to 
begin  with,  and  looked  ominously  grave. 

"  A  severe  case  of  fever,"  he  said.  "  He'll  want  a 
smart  sight  of  care,  and  he  hain't  goin'  to  be  on  his  feet 
agin  in  a  hurry." 

Marshall  did  not  want  for  the  care,  though  Abner 
called  on  none  to  help  him.  His  old  neighbour,  who 
had  shown  friendliness  when  the  cow  was  "  spelt,"  was 
crippled  with  rheumatism,  and  could  barely  hobble  across 
her  own  floor,  or  she  would  doubtless  have  proved  use- 
ful. As  it  was,  Abner  troubled  neither  friend  nor  foe. 
He  left  the  fields  to  look  after  themselves,  and  devoted 
his  attention  to  his  cousin. 

The  big,  gentle  fellow  made  a  laboriously  careful 
nurse,  taking  in  all  seriousness  every  head-shake  of  the 
doctor,  and  carrying  out  directions  with  a  precision 
founded  upon  the  belief  that  half  an  hour's  mistake  in 
the  administering  of  a  powder  might  turn  the  scale 
against  his  patient. 

There  was  an  excuse  for  his  anxiety.  The  blue  eyes 
that  stared  up  at  him  had  an  unsettling  tendency.  The 
Southern  belief  that  the  spirit  might  wander  while  the 
body  was  yet  instinct  with  life  did  not  seem  hard  to  be- 
lieve with  those  uncomprehending  eyes  fixed  on  his  face. 
In  one  of  those  wanderings  of  spirit  the  intelligent 


244  VISITING   THE    SIN 

agent  might  neglect  to  return.  It  would  not  be  because 
the  body  to  which  it  belonged  lacked  aught  that  Abner 
could  do  for  it.  He  watched  day  and  night,  with  but 
the  briefest  snatches  of  rest. 

To  Abner  the  nights  were  longer  than  the  days  ;  for 
then,  while  his  patient  slept  restlessly,  or  roused  himself 
to  give  utterance  to  strange,  wild  words,  little  calculated 
to  reassure  the  watcher,  the  hosts  of  darkness  seemed 
palpably  to  press  around  the  little  log  cabin.  To  Abner 
it  seemed  that  they  watched  for  his  soul  and  for  that  of 
the  sick  man.  More  than  ever,  during  these  later 
months,  had  he  realised  that  he  was  under  the  curse  of 
his  father's  sins.  The  sickness  that  had  come  upon 
Marshall  made  him  fear  lest  the  curse  should  not  be 
limited  to  himself. 

That  curse  was  ever  present  to  his  mind.  The  ver- 
dict of  his  neighbours  at  Big  Creek  Gap  seemed  but  the 
drawing  closer  round  him  of  the  retribution  which  was 
destined  to  pour  itself  out  upon  his  head.  Throughout 
his  whole  life  one  terrible  scene,  indelibly  printed  on 
heart  and  brain,  had  remained  in  the  foreground  of  his 
consciousness.  Resting  there  unexplained,  it  had  pro- 
duced a  result  inevitable  in  the  presence  of  a  hopeless, 
pressing  evil,  that  was  as  impossible  of  removal  as  his 
own  life, —  a  part  of  himself,  since  it  was  the  act  of  his 
father,  and  had  come  to  be  regarded  as  a  piece  of  his 
own  existence,  yet  abhorrent,  loathsome,  hellish.  It 
never  occurred  to  Abner  to  repudiate  it  as  a  deed  that 
belonged  to  his  father  and  was  in  no  degree  his.  Left 
to  produce  its  natural  effect,  it  had  worked  itself  into  his 
life  in  those  early  days  when  the  spirit  was  susceptible 
of  impression,  and  had  produced  an  exquisite  pain,  that 
responded  to  the  slightest  touch.  That  scene  had 
shaped  Abner' s  life  and  character.  It  had  produced  a 
man  more  fully  alive  to  one  set  of  influences  than  to  all 
the  world  besides. 


VISITING   THE   SIN  245 

Cast  in  a  deeply  religious  mould,  the  mind  of  Abner 
Poteet  had  grasped  the  terrors  of  the  law  in  connection 
with  this  sin,  which,  originally  that  of  his  father,  was  in 
some  strange  way  a  part  of  himself.  A  more  egotistical 
character  would  have  grown  rebellious  under  the  hope- 
lessness of  inherited  guilt.  Abner  neither  questioned 
nor  struggled,  but  accepted,  as  he  accepted  many  an- 
other belief  that  had  less  foundation  in  fact  than  had 
this  strangely  garbled  presentation  of  a  great  truth. 
The  belief  that  the  sins  of  his  father  rested  upon  himself 
had  gone  on  working,  robbing  the  boy's  heart  of  its 
lightness,  and  making  the  man  one  set  apart  from  his 
fellows. 

In  very  truth,  the  sins  of  Kennedy  Poteet  had  from 
the  first  rested  upon  his  son.  From  the  day  when  the 
scene  of  violence  made  its  indelible  impression  upon  the 
boy,  the  "  visiting  "  had  been  going  on.  Pressing  down 
upon  him,  so  that  the  terrors  of  the  unknown  took  deep 
hold  on  his  nature,  this  natural  consequence  of  his  fa- 
ther's sin,  while  it  weakened  in  one  direction  his  power  of 
resistance,  and  left  him  a  prey  to  fears  as  unfounded  as 
they  were  real  to  himself,  worked  in  yet  another  fashion, 
strengthening  and  purifying  and  ennobling.  Petty  pride, 
weak  self-indulgence,  the  greed  that  clutches  at  the 
good  of  life  and  holds  it  for  self  away  from  other  men, 
were  burned  out  by  the  fires  of  that  retribution  that 
was,  in  all  truth,  "  the  visiting  of  the  sins  of  the  fathers 
upon  the  children."  Not  in  the  light  sense  in  which  he 
threw  out  the  words,  but  with  a  fuller  significance  than 
Marshall  Rutherford  realised,  it  was  true  that  Abner 
had  fewer  sins  of  his  own  to  meet  than  grow  out  of  the 
lives  of  most  men  ;  and  they  were  fewer  because  he  had 
so  long  borne  the  sins  of  his  father.  The  simple  nobil- 
ity and  unselfishness  of  the  man's  character  were  results 
of  the  "  visiting  "  that  he  could  not  be  expected  to  see, 
and  that  those  who  knew  him  well  accepted  without 


246  VISITING   THE    SIN 

questioning,  as  "  Ab's  way."  And  so  the  great,  noble, 
unselfish  heart,  and  the  over-developed  conscience,  strug- 
gled on  together,  and  to  Abner  the  retribution  that  Big 
Creek  Gap  dealt  out  was  but  a  part  of  that  to  which  he 
felt  himself  devoted. 

One  haven  of  rest  was  left  him  in  the  long  night 
watches,  when  the  powers  of  darkness  were  more  real 
than  aught  besides.  It  was  found  in  the  thought  that 
no  breath  of  harm,  no  personal  knowledge  of  the  inn- 
keeper's sins  and  their  consequences,  could  come  upon 
Norah  Felps.  He  had  not  seen  her  since  the  day  he 
left  her  standing  in  the  cave,  and  turned  to  face  the 
world  without  the  hope  that  had  brightened  it.  Men 
could  never  say  again  that  Norah  craved  Kennedy  Po- 
teet's  money, —  the  money  that  was  accursed.  He  had 
abstained  from  going  near  the  house.  If  there  were  dis- 
grace in  associating  with  Kennedy  Poteet's  son,  that 
disgrace  should  not  touch  her.  He  was  jealous  for  her 
honour.  It  should  never  be  stained  by  contact  with 
him. 

Marshall  Lane  Rutherford  had  not  been  as  scrupu- 
lous. He  and  the  girl  were  on  friendly  terms.  But 
Marshall  was  not  Abner :  he  was  not  the  son  of  the  inn- 
keeper. 

The  thought  of  Norah  Felps  came  to  Abner  in  those 
hours  of  night  like  the  presence  of  an  angel.  He  was 
in  sore  need  of  it.  For  to  his  impressionable  nature,  at 
such  times  the  powers  of  darkness  joined  with  the  pow- 
ers that  were  seen,  and  hell  as  well  as  earth  was  ranged 
against  him.  It  would  not  have  surprised  him  had  the 
captain  of  the  hosts  of  evil  claimed  him  audibly  as  his 
prey.  The  scenes  of  the  past  lived  again  during  the 
hours  when  the  world  slept,  and  Marshall  tossed  and 
moaned,  and  roused  himself  now  and  again  to  ask  some 
wild,  incoherent  question.  The  blood  that  he  had  seen 
shed  seemed  to  Abner  to  cry  out  against  his  father  and 


VISITING   THE   SIN  247 

himself.  The  horror  of  a  night  long  buried  in  the  past 
stood  forth  as  justification  of  all  the  penalty  that  earth 
or  heaven  or  hell  could  exact.  There  were  those  who 
declared  that  Kennedy  Poteet's  victims  had  been  many. 
Abner  did  not  question  the  truth  of  their  words  on  these 
nights,  though  there  had  been  days  when  he  had  dared 
to  hope  that  the  accusations  were  unfounded.  He  mul- 
tiplied the  horror  indefinitely.  Round  him  in  the  night 
watches  gathered  ghostly  forms,  clamouring  for  ven- 
geance. He  made  no  effort  to  escape  them.  Why 
should  he  ?  Where  was  the  line  that  could  fathom  the 
depth  of  curse  that  rested  on  the  son  of  the  murderer 
many  times  over  ? 

And  then  his  thoughts  would  pass  with  pitying  tender- 
ness to  the  old  man  himself,  till  great  drops  of  perspira- 
tion stood  out  on  his  face,  and  the  hands  that  tended  his 
cousin  were  clammy.  For  he  had  loved  the  old  man 
who  had  gone  to  meet  the  reward  of  his  sins. 

It  was  little  wonder  that  Abner' s  face  grew  haggard 
as  the  days  and  nights  passed,  and  that  he  became  more 
than  ever  a  prey  to  dreams  of  evil,  less  able  to  judge 
between  reality  and  an  excited  imagination.  His  cousin, 
too,  gave  him  cause  for  uneasiness.  Abner  could  not 
fail  to  see  that  he  was  not  progressing  favourably. 

"  He  hain't  improvin'  none,"  said  the  doctor  gloomily. 
"  I  won't  answer  for  hit  that  hit  hain't  goin'  to  turn  aout 
more  'n  a  common  case  of  fever.  Better  take  powerful 
good  care  of  him,  Ab,  if  you  don't  want  the  trouble  of 
bury  in'  him.  I  hain't  goin'  to  be  responsible  for  no 
neglect.  He's  got  to  have  them  powders  and  drops 
reg'lar  every  hour." 

It  was  when  the  doctor  had  taken  his  departure,  leav- 
ing a  deepened  gloom  behind  him,  that  Norah  Felps 
made  her  appearance.  Abner  saw  her  from  the  window, 
and  his  heart  gave  a  great  throb  of  joy.  He  was  at  the 
door  before  she  reached  it. 


248  VISITING   THE    SIN 

"  You  hain't  comin'  in,"  he  said,  a  tender  smile  light- 
ing up  the  face  that  was  growing  worn  with  watching. 

"  Nonsense !  "  replied  the  girl,  with  a  laugh  and  a  toss 
of  her  head.  "  I  hain't  aimin'  to  go  back  without.  I 
shain't  hurt  him." 

"  I  hain't  fearin'  for  hi-im.  Hit's  you  I'm  thinkin' 
abaout,"  said  Abner,  with  an  intonation  in  his  voice  that 
was  not  wasted  on  the  girl. 

"  What  harm  will  he  do  me  ?  "  she  asked  lightly.  "I'm 
comin'  in  to  see  if  the  doctor  hain't  made  more  'n  half 
his  head  shakes  out  of  his  own  feelin's.  He  come  close 
to  shakin'  his  head  off  when  mammy  asked  him  how 
Marshall  was.  We  didn't  know  he  was  as  powerful  bad 
till  to-day.  Mammy's  comin'  to  set  up  with  him  to- 
night." 

Ab  looked  at  her  for  a  moment  in  silence.  The  heart 
warmth  the  offer  brought  to  him  meant  much  in  the 
present  crisis.  It  cheered  him  none  the  less  that  he 
had  no  thought  of  accepting  it. 

"No  she  hain't,"  he  said,  after  that  momentary 
silence.  "  I  hain't  aimin'  to  hev  nobody  lueke  atter  him 
but  me.  Doc  hain't  plumb  sure  hit  is  the  fever.  Hit 
might  be  ketchin'." 

"  If  hit  is,  we  hain't  aimin'  to  ketch  hit,"  she  said. 

"And  I  hain't  aimin'  to  let  ye,"  he  replied,  with  the 
same  light  in  his  eyes  that  had  shone  there  when  he 
greeted  her. 

In  the  end  the  girl  did  not  go  in,  and  the  night  found 
Abner  watching  alone.  Morning  demonstrated  his  wis- 
dom. The  doctor  stood  long  over  his  patient  without 
speaking.  Then  he  turned  suddenly  upon  Abner. 

"  Hit's  been  a  tol'rable  smart  while  showin'  hitself," 
he  said.  "  Thar  hain't  no  doubt  abaout  hit  now.  Hit's 
a  good  old-fashioned  case  o'  small-pox,  and  hit  hain't  tuk 
him  light." 

Even  the  doctor  wondered  at  the  look  that  came  into 


VISITING   THE    SIN  249 

Abner's  eyes.  He  did  not  know  that  the  man's  thought 
had  gone  straight  to  a  laughing,  queenly  face,  and  that 
the  first  tender  impulse  of  his  mind  took  the  form  of 
satisfaction  that  the  girl  had  not  been  permitted  to  come 
into  the  house. 

Totally  oblivious  of  self,  Abner  increased  his  vigilance, 
refusing  to  let  any  one  enter  the  cabin.  Norah's  mother 
presented  herself  at  the  door,  but  he  bade  her  go  home. 

"Thar  hain't  no  need  for  more'n  one  to  run  into 
danger,"  he  said.  "  You've  got  her  to  think  of  as  well 
as  yourself." 

"  I  hain't  fearin'  for  myself,  though  I  hain't  never 
had  hit,"  replied  Mrs.  Felps ;  "and  I  don't  know  as  I'm 
fearin'  much  for  her.  We  don't  neither  of  us  ketch 
things  powerful  quick.  You  cain't  du  everything  with- 
out he'p." 

The  bright  eyes,  so  like  Norah's  that  they  made  the 
world  look  homelike  while  they  gazed  into  his,  were 
scanning  Abner's  face. 

"  Oh,  I  shall  du  well  enough,"  he  said. 

The  little  woman  shook  her  head. 

"  You  hain't  lookin'  plumb  lively,"  she  said. 

"Hit's  jist  want  of  sleep.  I'm  duin'  all  right,"  he 
replied,  with  a  smile. 

She  went  away  unconvinced. 

"If  you  want  he'p,  you've  only  got  to  say  so,"  she 
said.  "  Me  and  Norah  hain't  afraid  ;  and  I  hain't  got  no 
man  to  make  a  time  over  hit,  if  I  du  run  a  leetle  risk." 

Abner  went  back  into  the  house  with  a  warm  spot  in 
his  heart.  He  was  not  going  to  lei  them  risk  anything 
for  him,  but  it  made  everything  look  different  to  know 
that  they  wanted  to  do  it. 

The  night  that  followed  was  hot  and  close.  There 
was  thunder  in  the  air.  If  he  had  consulted  his  own 
wishes,  Abner  would  have  shut  his  windows  in  spite  of 
the  heat.  There  was  comfort  for  him  in  the  knowledge 


250  VISITING   THE    SIN 

that  no  ordinary  avenue  was  left  open  through  which  the 
evil  from  without  might  easily  enter.  But  his  patient 
tossed  restlessly  about,  and  was  plainly  suffering  from 
the  heated  condition  of  the  atmosphere. 

Abner  went  into  the  outer  room,  and  opened  a  window 
wide.  Then  he  returned  to  Marshall's  side,  seating  him- 
self between  the  bed  and  the  open  window. 

He  was  anxious  about  his  cousin.  Moreover,  he  was 
very  tired.  For  five  nights  he  had  slept  only  in  short 
snatches.  The  depression  of  utter  weariness  was  upon 
him.  Every  thought  was  full  of  sadness,  except  that 
which  came  with  the  memory  of  Norah  and  her  mother. 
He  let  himself  turn  again  to  that  brilliantly  beautiful 
face  as  he  saw  it  when  it  smiled  upon  him  two  mornings 
ago  ;  and,  thinking  of  it,  his  head  dropped,  and  his  thoughts 
took  the  irresponsible  character  of  dreams.  At  first  it 
was  of  Norah  he  dreamt.  Then,  with  the  inconsistency  of 
dreams,  the  face  he  loved  faded  out  of  the  vision,  and 
dark  figures  took  its  place.  Shadowy  forms  moved 
about  him,  and  angry  voices  clamoured  in  his  ears. 
They  were  his  neighbours  of  Big  Creek  Gap  who  were 
condemning  him,  those  who  had  aforetime  been  his 
friends.  They  were  shouting  against  him,  demanding 
that  punishment  fall  speedily.  No,  after  all,  they  were 
not  his  neighbours.  They  had  changed  character. 
Those  forms  were  not  of  Big  Creek  Gap,  nor  of  earth  at 
all.  They  surged  up  from  the  depths,  stretching  out 
eager  hands,  and  calling  that  he  belonged  to  them.  He 
tried  to  move,  to  draw  himself  away  from  them,  and 
then  — 

His  eyes  were  wide  open.  This  was  not  a  dream, 
whatever  the  rest  had  been.  He  put  out  his  hand,  and 
laid  it  upon  the  fever-heated  one  on  the  bed.  That 
touch  assured  him  the  thing  was  real.  The  object  upon 
which  his  eyes  were  fixed  with  a  horrified  stare  might 
have  been  one  of  the  forms  of  his  dream  grown  more 


VISITING   THE    SIN  251 

vivid,  but  that  touch  told  him  he  no  longer  slept.  Was 
it  an  actual  visit  of  the  prince  of  evil, —  that  dark,  hideous 
head,  with  eyes  and  breath  of  fire,  that  seemed  to  fill  the 
outer  room  with  its  presence  ? 

Abner  had  fallen  asleep  sitting  between  the  bed  and 
the  outer  room.  The  open  window  was  exactly  oppo- 
site. Just  within  that  window,  bending  forward  with  a 
grin  of  satisfaction  that  allowed  the  fiery  breath  of  the 
apparently  Satanic  visitant  to  become  plainly  visible, 
was  a  head  thai  belonged,  surely,  to  neither  man  nor 
beast.  Its  eyes  were  pits  of  fire.  Its  size  was  colossal. 
Its  attitude  was  one  of  satisfied  examination  of  the 
premises  of  which  it  had  taken  possession.  Coming,  as 
it  had  seemed  to  do,  out  of  the  confines  of  his  dream, 
Abner  did  not  doubt  that  the  powers  of  hell  had  at  last 
prevailed  to  claim  their  own.  He  was  their  legitimate 
prey.  He  had  feared  it  long.  Why  should  he  wonder 
that  they  had  come  for  the  soul  that  belonged  to  them  ? 

He  tried  to  remove  his  eyes  from  that  terrible  fiery 
visitant,  but  they  refused  to  obey  his  will.  He  sat  and 
stared  at  it  with  a  horror  that  knew  no  diminution  as 
the  minutes  passed.  Suddenly,  for  one  brief  moment, 
the  room  blazed  with  light,  from  out  of  which  the  fiery 
eyes  burned  dully,  while  the  great  dim  form  of  the  head 
to  which  they  belonged  made  a  blot  in  the  dazzling 
brightness.  Then  the  light  died,  and  the  eyes  kindled 
afresh.  To  Abner  the  thunder  that  rolled  over  the 
house  was  a  voice  from  the  unknown  world,  telling  of 
doom. 

Was  it  part  of  the  thunder,  that  deep  voice  that  took 
up  the  sound,  sending  in  a  long,  low  roll  through  the 
place  the  significant  word,  "  Mine  !  " 

"  I  hain't  denyin'  hit,"  replied  Abner,  in  a  low,  awe- 
struck tone.  "  I  hain't  denyin'  hit's  just.  I  knowed 
the  visitin'  must  come.  I've  been  more  'n  half  expectin' 
hit  would  come  this  away.  But  I  hain't  ready  to  meet 
hit.  I'm  a  plumb  coward  !  " 


252  VISITING   THE    SIN 

Then,  as  the  figure  made  a  movement  towards  him, 
he  rose  from  his  seat,  took  a  couple  of  steps  forward, 
turned,  and  fled  back  to  the  bedside,  burying  his  head 
in  the  clothes. 

Once  more  the  air  vibrated  with  sound, —  a  long,  vin- 
dictive hiss,  like  that  of  a  serpent.  It  rilled  the  listener's 
ears,  presently  resolving  itself  into  articulate  sentences. 

"  Mine, —  body  and  soul !  I  set  my  seal  on  this 
house  and  every  soul  found  thar.  When  I  come  to 
claim  my  own,  let  all  be  ready." 

When  the  lightning  flashed  again,  Abner  did  not  see 
it.  With  head  buried  in  the  bed-clothes  he  was  wres- 
tling with  his  supreme  fear.  After  the  thunder  rolled 
away  the  house  became  very  still.  He  did  not  know 
how  the  minutes  passed.  He  was  face  to  face  with  the 
terror  that  had  hung  over  him  so  long.  With  his  soul 
as  the  prey,  he  was  fighting  for  strength  to  pay  the  full 
penalty  of  his  father's  sins. 

When  at  last  he  lifted  his  head,  the  light  of  day  was 
faintly  stealing  across  the  room.  Weary  and  stunned, 
Abner  rose,  and  turned  to  where  the  fiery  head  had 
been.  Its  place  was  vacant.  Through  the  open  win- 
dow came  the  cool  breath  of  morning.  Then,  and  not 
till  then,  did  he  remember  the  powders  that  should  have 
been  administered,  and  the  patient  whose  life,  as  he 
believed,  depended  upon  the  regularity  of  their  con- 
sumption. 

A  look  of  self-condemnation  came  over  the  weary 
face. 

"  I've  plumb  forgot  him !  And  doc  sayin'  his  life 
depended  on  his  gittin'  'em  reg'lar !  " 

With  a  trembling  hand  he  administered  a  powder,  and 
stood  looking  at  those  that  should  have  been  taken 
during  the  night. 

"  I  hain't  fit  to  look  atter  him,"  he  said  reproachfully. 
"I'm  too  big  a  coward.  I  warn't  aimin'  to  neglect 


VISITING   THE    SIN  253 

him,  but  I  was  powerful  tuk  up  with  the  danger  to 
myself." 

He  leant  over  the  bed.  To  his  unpractised  eye  the 
patient  seemed  worse. 

"  Thar  hain't  no  knowin'  what  harm  hit's  done  him," 
he  said.  "  He'd  got  to  hev  'em  reg'lar." 

He  gazed  regretfully  at  the  un consumed  powders. 

"  And  hit  hain't  this  night  only,"  he  continued  hope- 
lessly. "Thar's  other  nights.  Hit  may  come  agin. 
Hit's  tol'rable  likely  hit  will.  And  I  shall  forgit  agin. 
I'm  too  powerful  s cart  to  remember.  I  hain't  wantin' 
to  neglect  him,  but  I'm  that  plumb  full  o'  fear  that  I 
hain't  no  use.  Hit  hain't  a  coward  that's  fit  to  look 
atter  hi-im." 

And  while  Abner  reproached  himself,  and  trembled 
lest  in  the  overpowering  nature  of  his  fear  he  had 
sacrificed  his  cousin's  last  chance  of  life,  a  loud,  coarse 
laugh  was  sounding  through  the  barn  where  John 
Kisselbaugh's  mules  started  nervously  at  the  approach 
of  their  master. 

"He's  been  believin'  in  devils  and  ha'nts  and  witches 
all  his  life.  Hit'd  'a  been  a  plumb  pity  he  shouldn't 
never  see  one  on  'em." 

The  words  followed  the  laugh,  and  a  thud  upon  the 
floor  followed  the  words.  That  which  was  immediately 
responsible  for  the  thud  was  the  contact  of  John  Kissel- 
baugh's foot  with  an  object  of  sufficiently  uncanny 
appearance,  no  other  than  the  head  of  a  horse,  not  yet 
denuded  of  hair,  but  lacking  both  eyes  and  more  than 
half  the  teeth.  Just  how  terrible  such  an  object  could 
appear  when  lighted  from  within  by  two  burning  candles, 
one  must  view  it  in  the  darkness  of  night  to  imagine. 

John  Kisselbaugh  gave  the  head  a  kick. 

"  He'd  better  'a  kep'  his  hands  offn  me"  he  growled. 
"If  he  hain't  found  that  aout  yet,  he  will  afore  I'm  done 
with  him." 


254  VISITING   THE    SIN 


CHAPTER    XVII 

"  T   TT  IT  was  every  soul  in  the  house.      The  words 

I — I  was  clar." 

JL  JL  Abner  stood  looking  down  upon  his  cousin. 
Marshall  was  no  longer  conscious  of  his  presence.  He 
was  raving  wildly. 

There  was  a  new  thought  working  in  Abner' s  mind, — 
the  danger  to  his  cousin  arising  from  contact  with 
himself. 

"Hit's  his  connection  with  we-uns,"  he  said  sadly. 
"  Hit's  the  curse.  Hit's  costin'  him  his  life.  I  hain't 
believin'  hit  will  cost  him  more.  I  hain't  expectiri  hit. 
He  hain't  his  son.  Hit  hain't  likely  he'll  hev  to  answer 
for  the  sins.  But  thar's  danger.  The  words  was 
powerful  clar." 

The  morning  was  drawing  on,  and  Abner  was  waiting 
for  the  doctor.  He  was  very  uneasy  about  Marshall. 
His  neglect  seemed  to  him  to  have  produced  terrible 
results.  And  stronger  than  his  fear  of  those  results 
was  the  doubt  that  had  arisen  by  reason  of  the  words 
uttered  by  the  unearthly  night  visitant.  When  he  grew 
calm  enough  to  recall  their  significance,  fear  for  himself 
receded  into  the  background.  With  Abner,  danger  to 
another  implied  forgetf ulness  of  himself.  The  voice  of 
the  preceding  night  had  made  a  distinct  claim  upon  every 
soul  in  the  house.  Terror  that  the  curse  was  about  to 
fall  upon  his  cousin  superseded  the  personal  fear  that 
had  taken  possession  of  him. 

Abner  had  no  doubt  that  the  voice  he  had  heard  be- 
longed to  another  world.  The  superstitions  that  had 
been  part  of  his  daily  nourishment  while  a  child,  com- 


VISITING   THE    SIN  255 

bined  with  the  stern  doctrines  of  the  religious  teaching 
of  his  day,  made  it  seem  a  not  impossible  thing  that  the 
family  of  a  bad  man  should  be  doomed  to  destruction,  or 
that  the  powers  of  darkness  should  make  themselves 
visible,  and  claim  control  of  a  soul  upon  which  a  curse 
had  fallen.  His  idea  of  the  manner  in  which  his  father's 
sins  were  to  be  visited  upon  him  had  always  been  vague 
and  shadowy.  Whether  the  curse  would  exhaust  itself 
in  this  world,  or  achieve  its  fullest  significance  in  the 
next,  he  did  not  know.  He  feared  always  —  hoped 
sometimes  ;  but  ever,  through  fear  or  hope,  accepted  the 
consequences  of  his  father's  sins  unquestioningly. 

But  that  which  he  accepted  without  question  for  him- 
self was  not  to  be  as  readily  admitted  when  applied  to 
his  cousin.  The  visitor  of  the  past  night  might  make 
any  kind  of  demand  upon  him.  He  would  neither  con- 
tradict nor  resist.  But  when  Marshall  was  included  in 
that  demand  Abner's  mind  was  exercised. 

"Hit's  his  bein'  here,"  he  said.  "If  he'd  kep'  away, 
he  might  'a  been  safe." 

The  doctor's  visit  brought  no  comfort.  He  looked 
at  the  patient  despondingly. 

"He's  plumb  worse,"  he  said.  "He  hain't  goin'  on  as 
he  should.  Thar's  too  much  fever.  You  hain't  been 
neglect  in'  them  powders,  have  ye  ? " 

"  Thar  was  one  time  in  the  night  when  he  didn't  git 
'em  powerful  reg'lar,"  confessed  Abner. 

"That's  hit,"  growled  the  doctor  angrily.  "Thar's 
always  somethin'  at  the  bottom  of  these  relapses.  He's 
tol'rable  bad  this  mornin'.  I  hain't  goin'  to  answer  for 
the  consequences.  If  he  don't  git  what  I  leave  for  him 
plumb  reg'lar,  I  hain't  comin'  here  at  all." 

The  big,  gentle  fellow  looked  as  penitent  as  a  scolded 
child.  When  the  doctor  had  gone,  he  stood  over 
Marshall,  gazing  down  upon  him  with  eyes  that  were 
full  of  trouble. 


256  VISITING   THE    SIN 

"  Hit  may  happen  agin,"  he  said  slowly.  "  I  hain't 
sayin*  hit  won't.  I  hain't  to  be  trusted,  if  hit  should 
appear  to-night.  I  hain't  wantin'  to  neglect  him,  but  I 
might.  An'  then  thar's  the  curse.  He  hain't  nothin'  to 
du  with  hit  naow.  Hit  hain't  really  restiri  on  hi-im. 
He  ought er  hev  a  chance." 

The  trouble  in  his  eyes  grew  deeper.  He  still  stood 
by  the  bedside.  He  did  not  know  how  long  he  remained 
there.  He  was  weighing  dangers  and  possibilities.  At 
last  he  turned  away. 

"  I  warn't  reckonin'  to  let  ary  bit  of  hit  come  near 
he-er,"  he  said  ;  and  there  was  a  catch  in  his  voice,  sug- 
gestive of  a  sob.  "  Hit  hain't  right  she  should  suffer  — 
and  hit  hain't  right  he  shouldn't  hev  a  chance,"  he 
added  sorrowfully. 

If  John  Kisselbaugh  could  have  seen  the  figure  that 
went  tearing  across  the  fields  a  few  minutes  later,  it 
would  have  done  the  man's  vindictive  spirit  good.  Sor- 
row and  remorse  and  compelling  fear  were  visible  in 
Abner's  face.  His  pace  alone  was  sufficiently  suggestive 
of  danger.  In  truth,  he  hardly  dared  to  go  at  all.  He 
had  left  his  cousin  unattended,  and  he  was  fearful  of  the 
consequences.  When  Mrs.  Felps  opened  her  door  in 
answer  to  his  knock,  she  started  back  in  alarm. 

"  Mercy  sakes  !  What  is  hit  ? "  she  asked.  "  Come 
right  in." 

"  No,  I  dassen't,"  replied  Abner.  "  I  left  him  alone. 
I  hain't  knowin'  what  to  du.  I  warn't  wantin'  to  ask 
you  to  he'p.  Hit  hain't  safe.  But  he  oughter  hev  a 
chance,  and  thar's  danger  to  him  —  whar  he  is." 

The  deep-set,  worried  eyes  looked  into  the  little 
woman's  face. 

"  You  go  right  back,  Ab  Poteet,"  she  said  decisively. 
"  I'll  come  atter  ye  as  quick  as  I  can  ;  and  when  I  come, 
I'll  du  the  decidin'.  You  leave  that  to  me.  I'll  tell  ye 
what  to  du." 


VISITING   THE    SIN  257 

Abner  did  not  stop  to  take  breath.  He  was  off  again 
like  a  shot. 

"  Lor  !  if  he  hain't  a  si-ight,"  said  the  little  woman,  her 
dark,  handsome  face  expressing  nothing  but  motherly 
concern.  "He  hain't  got  nary  thought  for  himself, 
settin'  up  a-nights  and  runnin'  his  legs  off  in  the  days." 

"  You  better  go  and  see,"  rejoined  Norah.  "  We-uns 
hain't  afraid  o'  small-pox.  Thar's  things  a  plumb  sight 
more  ketchin'  than  small-pox,  and  cowardice  is  goin' 
round  powerful  bad  jist  naow.  I  hain't  sayin'  one  hain't 
pretty  much  as  bad  as  the  other.  You  go  and  see, 
mammy." 

Mrs.  Felps  went,  and  Abner  met  her  outside  the  door. 

"He's  sleepin'  still,"  he  said.  "  You  hain't  comin'  in 
till  I've  told  you.  I  hain't  askin'  nothin'.  I  hain't 
knowin'  what  to  du.  I'd  done  made  up  my  mind  that 
hit  shouldn't  never  put  her  in  no  danger.  But  thar's 
him  to  think  of  —  and  hit's  soul  as  well  as  body." 

"  You  jist  tell  me  all  abaout  hit,  and  leave  hit  for  me 
to  decide,"  said  Mrs.  Felps. 

Her  bright  black  eyes  grew  wide  with  horror  before 
Abner' s  story  of  the  preceding  night  was  told. 

"  Mercy  sakes  ! "  she  said.  "  I  hain't  wonderin'  you 
forgot  the  powders." 

He  looked  at  her  sorrowfully. 

"  I  was  plumb  tuk  up  with  my  own  fears,"  he  said. 
"  I  might  be  agin.  But  that  hain't  the  most  danger. 
Hit's  the  curse.  If  hit's  comin'  on  everybody  in  this 
house,  hit  hain't  givin'  him  a  fair  show.  He  cain't  git 
himself  aout  o'  the  house.  But  I  hain't  wantin'  to  ask 
you  to  run  into  danger.  Thar  is  danger.  Hit's  power- 
ful ketchin',  and  she  might  ketch  hit.  I'd  done  made 
up  my  mind  thar  shouldn't  no  shadder  of  harm  come 
near  her.  But  is  hit  jist  right  to  him  ?  Hit's  his  hevin' 
ary  thing  to  du  with  me  that's  puttin'  him  in  the  danger. 
Hit  hain't  him  that's  to  blame:  hit's  his  bein'  here. 
He's  a-comin'  in  for  the  curse  that's  restin'  on  me." 


258  VISITING   THE    SIN 

Abner's  face  expressed  doubt  and  sorrow  and  griev- 
ous disappointment.  It  was  costing  him  much  to  open 
this  question  which  in  his  mind  had  been  so  completely 
settled.  To  risk  Norah's  safety  was  the  biggest  sacri- 
fice he  could  have  made  for  his  cousin. 

The  brown  face,  full  of  the  vigour  of  health  and  hope- 
fulness, wore  a  thoughtful  look.  The  little  woman  to 
whom  it  belonged  was  for  the  moment  silent. 

"  You  hain't  no  call  to  feel  so  ba-ad,"  she  said,  after 
that  reflective  silence.  "  He  shain't  be  sacrificed.  Hit's 
a  sight  how  trouble  falls  on  some  people.  I  hain't 
denyin'  thar's  all  kinds  o'  spirits  abaout  —  and  ha'nts ; 
but,  lor !  I  don't  see  why  they  should  set  on  you-u  more  'n 
ary  other.  You  hain't  your  pappy ;  and  you  hain't  to 
blame  for  his  doin's,  if  folks  make  aout  you  are." 

Abner  shook  his  head. 

"  I  hain't  expectin'  to  escape,"  he  said.  "  But  he 
hain't  his  son." 

"No,  he  hain't;  and  he  hain't  goin'  to  surfer,"  she 
said  decisively.  "  Hit  hain't  safe  to  let  him  stay  here. 
You  go  and  hitch  up  the  mules,  Ab,  and  we'll  take 
him  along  to  my  house.  He's  got  to  hev  a  chance. 
He's  as  likely  a  young  feller  as  ever  I  see.  We-uns  are 
goin'  to  pull  him  through, —  me  and  Norah.  You  cain't 
du  no  more ;  and  you  hain't  fit,  if  you  could." 

"  You're  very  good,"  he  said  gratefully  ;  but  his  voice 
was  full  of  regret.  "  I  warn't  wantin'  hit  to  be  so.  I 
warn't  wantin'  to  come  and  ask  ye.  Thar  might  be  evil 
come  to  you  —  and  her.  But  I  dassen't  say  no.  Thar's 
more  'n  life  at  stake  for  hi-im." 

The  dark  eyes  that  looked  into  his  had  suddenly 
grown  misty.  The  little  woman  took  a  quick  step  for- 
ward and  laid  her  hand  on  Abner's  arm. 

"  You  done  all  you  could,  and  you  done  plumb 
ri-ight,"  she  said.  "  I  hain't  wantin'  sorrer.  Thar's 
enough  of  hit  in  the  world,  and  hit  comes  tol'rable  easy. 


VISITING   THE    SIN  259 

But  that  hain't  no  reason  why  a  body  should  refuse  to 
he'p  them  that's  in  need.  You  go  and  hitch  up  the 
mules." 

Marshall  knew  nothing  of  that  journey  across  the 
fields.  Later  in  the  day  he  was,  in  some  indistinct  way, 
conscious  that  the  face  which  was  bent  over  him  was  not 
the  face  of  his  cousin.  Perhaps  it  was  a  girl's  voice  in 
his  ears  that  set  his  brain  wandering  into  new  fields,  and 
made  him  whisper,  in  softer  tones  than  those  in  which 
he  had  hitherto  spoken:  "Hit's  a  pretty  night.  I've 
come  to  claim  the  fulfilment  of  your  promise." 

When  Abner  had  turned  the  mules  into  the  field,  he 
came  back  to  the  empty  house. 

"Thar  '11  be  only  one  here  to-night,"  he  said.  "  Hit 
hain't  right  more  'n  one  should  suffer.  He  hain't  his 
son.  Thar's  no  claim  agin  him." 

Then  he  went  over  to  the  hearth  and  stood  there. 
He  could  not  have  been  thinking  of  his  cousin ;  for 
when  he  spoke,  his  words  were  not  of  him. 

"  Thar's  no  keepin'  hit  offn  her,"  he  said ;  and  there 
was  the  ring  of  longing  and  despair  in  his  voice.  "  I 
aimed  to  do  hit,  but  I  warn't  able." 


260  VISITING   THE    SIN 


CHAPTER   XVIII 

""•     ^EELIN'  pretty  gue-ude  abaout  naow,  hain't  ye, 

M  Will  ?  Marshall  Rutherford's  gittin'  his  deserts, 
JL  %&  you  count  deserts." 

The  speaker  shifted  his  shoulders  to  obtain  a  more 
comfortable  support  from  the  doorpost,  and  stared  into 
the  room  where  Naomi  was  clearing  the  dishes  from  the 
table,  and  Will  Hollingsworth  was  doing  nothing  in 
particular,  unless  watching  Naomi  was  particular  —  as  it 
might  well  have  been,  to  him. 

A  grunt  was  Will's  only  answer. 

Undismayed  by  the  want  of  appreciation  of  one  of 
his  hearers,  the  speaker  continued :  — 

"  Knowed  he'd  got  the  small-pox,  didn't  ye  ?  Got  hit 
powerful  bad,  too.  Hit's  done  tuk  plumb  hold  of  him." 

"7  don't  care  what  he's  got,"  said  Will,  turning 
savagely  on  the  visitor.  "  If  you're  want  in'  ary  boards 
cut  to-day,  you'd  better  go  to  the  mill  to  see  after  them." 

"  Thar's  plenty  of  time,"  replied  the  other  coolly.  "  I 
hain't  in  a  powerful  hurry.  Hear  Abner  had  thro  wed 
up  the  nursin'  'cause  doc  warn't  satisfied  ? " 

"  Hear  ?  I  hear  a  sight  more  'n  I  want,  with  your 
everlasting  chatter,"  snapped  Will. 

He  had  been  watching  Naomi.  So  had  the  speaker. 
There  was  not  much  for  either  of  them  to  see.  Only 
half  a  dishful  of  potatoes  emptied  hastily  into  the  pan 
that  contained  dirty  knives  and  plates.  It  was  a  little 
matter,  but  it  was  not  like  Naomi. 

"  Lor,  man !  don't  put  yourself  aout,"  responded  the 
visitor.  "  You'll  hear  more  clatter  than  mine  afore  you 
die.  Cur'ous,  hain't  hit,  that  Norah  Felps  and  her 


VISITING   THE    SIN  261 

mammy's  done  tuk  him  in  ?  I  hain't  sure  thar  was  ary 
other  person  would  'a  done  hit.  Small-pox  hain't  a  thing 
many  hankers  atter,  and  neither  Marshall  nor  Ab  hain't 
got  a  powerful  lot  o'  friends  jist  naow." 

He  was  looking  from  one  to  the  other  of  his  listeners 
as  he  spoke.  It  was  fair  to  suppose  that  Naomi  was 
a  listener,  though  she  had  turned  her  back  on  the 
speaker  and  was  brushing  crumbs  from  the  table  with 
some  haste. 

"  Norah  Felps  is  a  fool !  "  said  Will  angrily. 

"No,  she  hain't,"  replied  the  other  slowly.  "That 
girl  hain't  no  fool,  and  more  hain't  her  mammy.  Ever 
try  to  argy  with  the-em  abaout  Marshall  and  Ab  ? " 

"  Not  I,"  said  Will.     "  They're  all  of  a  feather." 

"  I  thought  not.  Better  not  try  hit.  That  girl  would 
be  more  'n  a  match  for  yo-ou" 

Will  uttered  an  exclamation  that  was  not  a  blessing, 
and  went  out  of  the  door.  The  visitor  shifted  his 
shoulders  into  a  fresh  position,  and  continued  to  gaze  at 
Naomi. 

"Hit's  plumb  like  a  judgment  on  him,  hain't  hit?" 
he  said,  after  a  considerable  silence. 

The  girl  turned  from  the  now  crumbless  table  and 
swept  her  eyes  over  the  speaker's  person. 

"  If  judgments  are  coming  this  away,  there  '11  be  a 
smart  sight  o'  folks  calling  aout  before  long,"  she  said. 

He  laughed  awkwardly,  relieved  the  doorpost  of  his 
weight,  and  went  off  to  the  mill. 

"  Hit's  done  tuk  plumb  hold  of  him." 

Naomi  stood  staring  at  the  dish-pan,  and  listening  to 
the  words  as  they  formed  themselves  again  and  again  in 
her  brain.  It  was  the  first  she  had  heard  of  Marshall's 
illness.  The  workmen  in  the  house  rarely  mentioned 
the  young  man's  name,  possibly  having  not  yet  forgotten 
the  two  or  three  vigorous  snubs  that  had  followed 
attempts  to  see  how  the  land  lay  when  Marshall  first 


262  VISITING   THE    SIN 

left  the  boarding-house.  Whatever  knowledge  Dalbert 
possessed  he  kept  to  himself.  The  increase  of  brotherly 
feeling  that  had  existed  during  Will  Rollings  worth's 
absence  had  more  than  died  out  since. 

It  was  possibly  ten  minutes  before  Naomi  remembered 
to  lift  the  dish-pan  and  carry  it  into  the  kitchen.  Dish- 
washing was  a  purely  mechanical  performance  that 
afternoon. 

The  day  was  not  a  propitious  one  for  the  assertion  of 
brotherly  authority.  The  heart  that  is  listening  to  its 
own  condemnation  does  not  take  kindly  to  that  of 
another.  Dalbert  was  perhaps  unfortunate ;  but  he  had 
no  choice,  or  he  persuaded  himself  that  he  had  none. 
He  had  come  to  the  limit  of  his  patience  —  and  passed  it. 

The  attitude  he  had  been  obliged  to  take,  in  order  not 
to  range  himself  against  his  sister  in  the  attempt  to 
force  the  opinion  of  Big  Creek  Gap,  had  never  been 
pleasant  to  Dalbert.  In  the  last  few  weeks  it  had 
become  unbearable.  Will  Hollingsworth  and  Naomi 
were  the  prime  movers  in  this  arousing  of  party  feeling. 
Naturally  everybody  credited  him  with  sympathy  with 
the  movement,  if  not  with  actual  participation  in  it. 
How  were  people  to  know  that,  while  he  worked  for  the 
mill  owner,  and  lived  in  the  same  house  with  him,  he  was 
antagonistic  to  his  actions  and  purposes  ?  He  would 
openly  have  denounced  his  policy,  but  that  by  so  doing  he 
must  denounce  his  sister.  Since  that  policy  had  become 
more  aggressive,  he  had  found  it  hard  to  keep  silence. 

The  close  intimacy  with  the  mill  owner  irritated  him. 
What  right  had  the  fellow  to  assume  more  than  brotherly 
relations  with  Naomi  ?  He  looked  impatiently  forward 
to  the  time  when  he  should  be  able  to  tell  Will  Hollings- 
worth to  look  after  his  own  mill.  Then  he  would  take 
Naomi  away  from  an  influence  that  brought  out  the  side 
of  the  girl's  character  that  Dalbert  could  least  under- 
stand. He  felt  nearer  to  that  time  when  he  went  out 


VISITING   THE    SIN  263 

that  morning,  for  there  had  just  been  dispatched  another 
handful  of  letters  that  left  his  indebtedness  at  Cedar 
Fork  comparatively  small.  They  left  the  actual  cash  in 
his  pocket  more  than  comparatively  so. 

When  he  left  the  house  that  day,  Dal  did  not  know 
quite  how  near  he  was  to  the  time  when  he  would  tell 
Will  to  look  after  his  own  mill.  He  did  not  know  when 
he  started  for  the  village :  he  did  when  he  came  back. 
Before  he  entered  the  boarding-house,  the  knowledge  had 
passed  into  action. 

"  Naomi,  where  are  you  ? " 

Dalbert's  voice  rang  through  the  place.  Its  tone  was 
imperative. 

"  We-el  ? "  said  the  girl,  appearing  at  the  door  of  the 
kitchen. 

"  I  want  you  to  pack  up  and  get  aout  of  this  house. 
I've  done  with  the  mill,  and  everything  belonging  to  it." 

Dalbert's  tone  was  authoritative.  His  face  was  wrath- 
ful. Naomi  scanned  it  leisurely. 

"  You've  been  powerful  quick  making  up  your  mi-ind," 
she  said. 

"  Quick  !  "  he  retorted.  "  I've  stood  it  till  I  can't 
stand  it  a  day  longer.  I  ain't  a  brute,  if  Will  Hollings- 
worth  is." 

"  No-o  ? "  she  replied,  raising  her  eyebrows  a  little. 

"Look  here,"  he  said,  coming  a  step  nearer,  "we've 
had  enough  of  this  fooling.  You  ain't  without  con- 
science or  heart,  if  you  do  act  as  if  you'd  nary  a  bit  of 
either." 

"Thank  you,"  she  said  sarcastically. 

"  It  had  got  to  come  to  an  end,  and  it  has  come,"  said 
Dalbert,  too  much  carried  away  by  his  own  appreciation 
of  the  subject  to  be  observant  of  his  sister's  attitude 
towards  it.  "We've  done  with  Will  Hollingsworth  and 
his  mill,  and  with  his  house  too,  so  the  sooner  we  get 
aout  of  it,  the  better." 


264  VISITING   THE    SIN 

He  looked  at  Naomi  as  if  he  expected  her  to  make 
immediate  movement  towards  putting  the  latter  proposi- 
tion into  effect.  Her  eyes  were  fixed  on  his  face  with 
an  expression  half  scornful,  half  indulgent.  She  made 
no  answer  in  words. 

"  I've  told  Will  Hollingsworth  that  he's  had  the  last 
stroke  of  work  he'll  get  aout  of  me,"  Dalbert  continued. 
"  I'll  have  naught  to  say  to  a  man  who  thinks  it  a  fine 
piece  of  business  to  frighten  a  harmless  feller  aout  of  his 
wits,  to  say  nothing  of  killing  a  sick  man." 

He  was  not  sufficiently  at  leisure  from  himself  to 
notice  the  startled  movement  of  the  listener's  eyelids 
which  was  simultaneous  with  the  last  words.  There 
was  still  no  answer  from  Naomi. 

"  To  have  a  great  brute  like  John  Kisselbaugh  claim- 
ing connection  with  me"  he  continued  angrily,  "and 
taking  it  for  granted  that  I  was  a  party  to  his  outrages  !  " 

"What  has  John  Kisselbaugh  to  do  with  the  mill?" 
asked  Naomi. 

"What  has  he  to  do  with  the  mill  ?"  repeated  Dal. 
"  Not  much.  What  he  has  to  do  with  Will  Hollings- 
worth is  more  to  the  point.  Who's  set  such  ruffians  at 
work,  and  given  them  the  countenance  of  a  decent 
name  ?  Would  that  brute  have  dared  to  come  up  to  me 
if  Will  hadn't  given  him  reason  to  think  that  he  might  ? 
'  Our  friend  Ab  has  had  a  bit  of  a  scare,  hain't  he  ? '  he 
said,  bold  as  brass,  poking  his  elbow  into  me  as  if  he'd 
a  right  to  be  as  free  as  he  liked.  '  Been  dreamin*  of 
ha'nts  all  his  life,  and  come  to  see  one  with  his  own  eyes 
at  last.  Pity  he  shouldn't,  naow,  afore  hit  was  too  late, 
warn'thit?'" 

Dalbert' s  eyes  flashed  angrily.  If  it  was  in  this  mood 
he  met  John  Kisselbaugh,  there  was  little  fear  that  even 
he  would  repeat  the  offence. 

"  Is  tha-at  all  ?  "  The  girl  laughed  lightly.  It  would 
not  have  taken  a  very  close  observer  to  detect  a  tone  of 


VISITING   THE    SIN  265 

relief.  "  If  a  fool  chooses  to  see  a  ghost,  what  is  that  to 
you  or  me?  I'm  not  going  to  complain." 

He  turned  on  her  angrily. 

"  What  is  it  to  you  ? "  he  said.  "  It  may  be  nothing  ; 
but  if  so,  more  shame  to  you.  Don't  you  understand 
the  feller's  words?  How  did  he  know  Abner  Poteet 
had  had  a  scare,  unless  he  was  in  the  business  ?  He 
took  good  care  not  to  say  so,  but  he  meant  me  to  under- 
stand that  he  was  at  the  bottom  of  it." 

"  Mercy  sakes  !  "  said  Naomi,  with  a  movement  of  im- 
patience. "  Let  him  be  at  the  bottom  of  it,  or  ary  other 
place  in  it,  if  he  wa-ants  to.  There's  no  need  of  a 
tempest  over  tha-at." 

Her  words  did  not  tend  to  cool  Dalbert's  temper. 

"  Look  here,  Naomi,"  he  said.  "  I've  had  enough  of 
this.  You  ain't  like  the  same  girl  that  came  to  Big 
Creek  Gap.  You  don't  see  any  harm  in  things  that 
would  have  looked  powerful  bad  to  you  twelve  months 
ago.  If  you  ain't  ashamed  of  what's  been  going  on,  I 
am.  It's  time  this  thing  was  stopped,  and  I've  stopped 
it.  We've  done  with  this  arrangement,  and  none  too 
soon." 

"  You've  been  fool  enough  to  give  up  your  place  at 
the  mill  ? " 

Naomi  spoke  slowly  and  deliberately. 

"I've given  it  up  —  fool  or  not,"  he  said. 

"And  what  are  you  going  to  do  next  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know.     Go  to  farming,  maybe,"  he  replied. 

"  At  this  time  of  the  year  ? " 

"  It's  not  too  late  for  a  crop  of  corn." 

She  laughed  contemptuously. 

"Going  to  grow  corn  without  seed,  and  with  one 
horse  to  do  your  ploughing  as  late  in  the  season  as  this  ? " 

"  I  don't  know  what  I'm  going  to  do,"  he  replied. 
"But  I  do  know  I  won't  stay  here." 

"  When  are  you  going  ? "  she  asked. 


266  VISITING   THE    SIN 

"  As  soon  as  you  can  get  ready.  To-night,  if  you  can 
pack  up  your  things." 

"My  things  are  not  in  the  question.  I'm  going  to 
stay  he-re,"  she  said. 

She  was  looking  at  him  steadily. 

«  Naomi!" 

He  stared  at  her  as  if  he  could  not  believe  his  ears. 
In  truth,  he  found  it  difficult  to  do  so.  This  was  an  out- 
come on  which  he  had  not  reckoned. 

"  You  won't  -go  with  me  ? " 

He  had  waited  for  an  answer  to  his  exclamation,  but 
it  had  not  come. 

"Certainly  not,"  she  said.  "I'm  not  a  fool,  if  you 
choose  to  be  one." 

"  What  will  you  do  ? "  he  asked. 

"  Stay  where  I  am.  It  is  more  practicable  than  grow- 
ing a  crop  of  corn  on  nothing." 

"  Stay  here  with  that  feller  ? " 

"  Stay  here  and  go  on  with  my  work,"  she  said.  "  I'm 
not  fond  of  starvation." 

"  Nor  of  respectability,"  he  retorted,  turning  on  his 
heel. 

Even  when  he  walked  away,  Dalbert  did  not  really 
believe  that  his  sister  would  persist  in  her  refusal  to 
leave  the  boarding-house.  The  rude  familiarity  of  John 
Kisselbaugh  had  brought  home  to  him  the  position  in 
which  he  stood,  and  the  man's  words  had  opened  his 
eyes  to  the  true  character  of  the  warfare  that  was  being 
waged.  He  had  understood,  as  John  had  meant  that  he 
should,  more  than  the  words  expressed,  more  than  the 
man  intended  that  any  should  know  as  a  fact.  He 
realised  the  malice  and  unscrupulousness  of  these  allies 
of  Will  Hollingsworth.  Hot  anger  had  been  aroused  at 
the  thought  that  all  this  was  done  in  his  sister's  name 
and  his  own.  John  Kisselbaugh's  words  had  proved  the 
straw  too  much  for  him.  He  had  gone  straight  to  the 


VISITING   THE   SIN  267 

mill,  and  given  Will  the  benefit  of  a  little  plain  talk.  He 
ended  by  resigning  his  position,  and  refusing  to  do 
another  day's  work  in  the  place. 

"  Please  yourself,"  replied  Will  coolly. 

It  may  have  been  that  the  mill  owner  counted  on 
influence  more  potent  than  words  of  his.  To  all  appear- 
ance he  did  not  disturb  himself  much  about  his  superin- 
tendent's decision. 

Before  the  day  was  over,  the  vague  plans  that  had 
been  floating  in  Dalbert's  mind  had  crystalised.  The 
immediate  securing  of  a  home  was  an  imperative 
necessity.  After  what  had  occurred  that  day,  the  same 
roof  would  not  shelter  him  and  Will  Hollingsworth.  It 
was  hardly  likely  that  a  new  position  as  manager  could 
be  obtained  in  a  hurry.  Saw-mills  were  not  as  plentiful 
in  the  mountains  in  those  days  as  they  became  a  few 
years  later.  He  might  find  what  he  wanted  in  time, 
but  certainly  not  to-day.  And  he  must  secure  a  home 
to-day. 

When  he  came  again  within  sight  of  the  "  branch," 
he  possessed  one.  Not  a  very  satisfactory  home, — 
nothing  but  a  rude  log  cabin,  set  in  a  hollow  half- 
way up  the  slope  of  one  of  the  ridges  that  diver- 
sify the  country  inside  the  great  sweep  formed  by  the 
Cumberland  and  Walden  mountains.  It  was  a  long 
way  from  being  attractive,  it  could  not  even  boast  of 
picturesqueness,  and  it  was  hopelessly  dirty.  But  it 
was  a  shelter,  and  it  was  far  removed  from  both  vil- 
lage and  mill.  The  latter  fact  was,  in  Dalbert's  esti- 
mation, overpoweringly  in  its  favour.  His  mind  at  once 
busied  itself  with  plans  for  converting  the  rough  cabin 
into  a  decent  dwelling.  He  did  not  deny  that  the 
change  would  be  a  hard  one  for  Naomi,  but  —  it  was 
very  much  her  own  fault.  However  strongly  he  might 
blame  Will  Hollingsworth,  Dalbert  could  not  forget  that 
the  movement  against  Abner  Poteet  had  been  set  on 
foot  by  his  sister. 


268  VISITING   THE    SIN 

The  working  of  the  fields  that  pertained  to  the  log 
cabin  was  not  as  hopeless  a  matter  as  Naomi  had  sug- 
gested. Cash  was  by  no  means  an  indispensable  item 
of  the  programme.  It  was  easy  to  arrange  with  the 
owner  to  supply  the  mules  and  implements  for  working 
the  land.  When  his  crop  was  gathered  in,  Dalbert 
would  have  nothing  to  do  but  divide  the  produce  into 
two  parts  and  give  the  landlord  his  choice. 

In  the  meantime  the  lateness  of  the  season  presented 
the  greatest  difficulty.  It  was  even  now  the  first  week 
in  May,  and  the  crops  in  the  fields  he  passed  looked  to 
Dalbert  almost  grown.  He  was  impatient  to  be  at 
work  preparing  for  his  own.  It  was  too  late  to  draw 
back,  even  if  he  had  so  desired.  He  allowed  his 
thoughts  to  go  forward.  Already  he  was  entering  with 
something  like  eagerness  into  the  new  scheme.  It 
would  at  least  bring  the  present  condition  of  things  to 
an  end. 

His  anger  against  Will  Hollingsworth  had  not  in  the 
slightest  degree  cooled  when  he  came  back  into  the  val- 
ley, but  his  irritation  towards  Naorni  was  swallowed  up 
in  the  multitude  of  thoughts  and  considerations  con- 
nected with  the  new  enterprise.  It  was  not  worth  while 
to  nurse  his  resentment  against  his  sister.  Besides,  she 
would  have  to  suffer  for  her  folly.  There  was  no  need 
for  him  to  scold. 

But  when  his  feet  carried  him  down  the  sharp  slope 
of  the  bank,  almost  on  top  of  the  house,  and  his  eyes 
showed  him  his  sister  sitting  upon  the  doorstep  in  close 
and  apparently  friendly  converse  with  Will,  his  tolerance 
experienced  a  severe  strain.  He  passed  the  two  without 
a  word,  and  went  in  at  a  back  door. 

Being  a  man  who  was  not  observant  of  the  working 
of  women's  ways,  Dalbert  did  not  know,  and  could  not 
be  expected  to  understand,  that  there  were  reasons  other 
than  an  overwhelming  desire  for  his  company  that  might 


VISITING   THE    SIN  269 

prompt  Naomi  to  assume  an  easy  familiarity  with  Will 
Hollingsworth  on  this  particular  evening.  Will,  who 
was  as  well  versed  in  those  same  women's  ways  as 
Dalbert  was  ignorant,  was  not  at  all  surprised  that  she 
did  not  avoid  him  when  he  returned  to  the  house.  She 
met  him  with  a  frown. 

"  What  did  you  want  to  quarrel  with  Dal  for  ? "  she 
asked  peremptorily. 

"/  quarrel  with  Dal  ? "  he  said,  looking  at  her  with  a 
smile.  "  Lor  !  if  you'd  heard  hi-im  abuse  me,  you  wouldn't 
know  how  to  praise  my  forbearance  loudly  enough." 

"You  are  plumb  foolish  —  both  of  you,"  she  said. 
"  How  are  you  going  to  get  on  without  Dal  ? " 

"  How's  Dal  going  to  get  on  without  me-e  ?  "  he  asked, 
laughing. 

It  was  not  his  policy  to  treat  the  trouble  seriously  — 
with  her.  Whatever  his  own  feelings  might  be,  he  met 
the  difficulty  lightly.  Neither  spoke  of  Marshall  Ruther- 
ford, but  the  little  bit  of  conversation  listened  to  that 
morning  occupied  a  more  prominent  place  in  both  minds 
than  did  the  quarrel  between  Dalbert  and  the  mill  owner. 

Will  looked  up  quizzically  as  Dal  passed,  and  then 
down  again  at  the  girl. 

"  Implacable,"  he  said  in  a  low  voice. 

"What  can  you  expect?"  she  replied,  in  a  tone  that 
was  light,  but  not  meaningless.  "He  holds  you  respon- 
sible for  John  Kisselbaugh's  doings,  and  John  is  a  brute. 
Frightening  sick  men  and  fools  is  not  manly  work." 

She  did  not  avoid  his  eyes  as  she  spoke.  On  the 
contrary,  she  raised  her  own  to  a  level  with  his  face. 
Her  look  was  neither  a  challenge  nor  a  reproach.  It 
was  a  quiet,  steady  gaze  that  required  no  interpretation 
because  it  held  no  hidden  meaning.  For  one  moment 
there  came  across  the  face  of  Will  Hollingsworth  the 
suggestion  of  a  scowl.  It  was  a  mere  suggestion,  gone 
almost  as  soon  as  it  appeared. 


270  VISITING  THE    SIN 

"If  I'm  to  answer  for  all  John  Kisselbaugh's  doings, 
I'm  to  be  pitied,"  he  said. 

"  In  addition  to  your  own  —  ye-es,"  she  replied  slowly. 

There  were  three  people  beneath  the  boarding-house 
roof  who  made  but  a  feint  of  slumber  that  night.  Dal- 
bert  threw  himself  on  his  bed,  and  gave  himself  up  to  his 
thoughts,  alternately  fuming  over  Naomi's  obstinacy  and 
working  out  plans  for  the  season's  labours.  Occasion- 
ally he  broke  off  from  this  double  train  of  thought  to 
indulge  in  an  ebullition  of  anger  against  Will  and  his 
insolent  pretensions.  He  did  not  hide  from  himself  the 
fact  that  the  move  was  a  losing  one  on  his  side.  By 
throwing  up  his  work  at  the  mill,  he  was  putting  off 
indefinitely  the  time  when  he  should  again  operate  a 
mill  of  his  own.  It  would  have  been  wiser  to  exercise  a 
little  more  patience.  But  his  irritation  at  a  connection 
that  had  long  been  distasteful  was  too  great  to  allow  him 
even  to  wish  that  it  had  been  possible  for  him  to  con- 
tinue that  connection  longer.  He  was  glad  that  it  was 
severed ;  and  as  for  his  sister,  it  was  time  she  was  re- 
moved from  Will  Hollings worth's  influence.  He  could 
not  understand  how  she  could  feel  satisfaction  at  the 
attentions  of  the  mill  owner. 

He  was  taking  the  satisfaction  a  little  too  much  for 
granted.  Naomi's  attitude  afforded  no  suggestion  of  it 
as  she  sat  in  the  darkness,  with  an  angry  pain  at  her 
heart.  There  was  no  moon,  as  there  had  been  on  a 
night,  more  than  a  month  ago,  when  she  stood  by  the 
window.  Clouds  were  over  the  sky  now ;  and  if  they 
had  not  been  there  she  would  not  have  gone  to  the 
window.  She  wanted  no  reminder  of  the  time  when 
Marshall  Lane  Rutherford's  life  was  not  yet  completely 
outside  her  own.  She  had  made  her  choice  then,  and 
she  meant  to  abide  by  it.  But  she  had  not  reckoned  on 
this.  Marshall  Lane  Rutherford  in  health  and  Marshall 
Lane  Rutherford  ill  and  helpless  were  different  objects 


VISITING   THE    SIN  271 

of  attack.  The  young  man's  relationship  to  Kennedy 
Poteet  stood  out  less  prominently  to-night  than  the 
character  that  had  made  itself  felt  in  those  two  weeks 
of  intercourse. 

Towards  Abner  Poteet,  Naomi's  anger  was  hot.  Truly 
it  was  like  a  Poteet  to  consult  his  own  safety  and  ease 
by  putting  the  risk  and  the  burden  of  the  nursing  on 
others.  Why  should  Norah  Felps  and  her  mother  be 
dragged  into  the  business  ?  The  words  of  the  visitor 
vibrated  uncomfortably  through  her  brain.  "  Cur'ous, 
hain't  hit,  that  Norah  Felps  and  her  mammy  done  tuk 
him  in  ?  I  hain't  sure  thar  was  ary  other  person  would 
'a  done  hit."  Common  humanity  surely  called  for 
gratitude  to  this  woman  and  girl.  But  it  was  not  grati- 
tude that  was  stirring  in  Naomi's  heart.  It  gave  her 
no  satisfaction  to  be  assured  that  womanly  ministrations 
would  fall  to  the  sick  man's  lot.  It  was  when  she 
thought  of  his  eyes  opening  to  meet  the  queenly  face  of 
Norah  Felps  that  she  grew  more  violently  irritated 
against  Abner  Poteet,  and  that  some  of  her  irritation 
passed  over  to  Will  Hollingsworth.  Will's  zeal  had  out- 
run his  discretion.  What  did  he  want  with  such  allies 
as  John  Kisselbaugh  ?  Questionable  methods  of  war- 
fare were  unnecessary,  where  the  justice  was  all  on  one 
side. 

Justice  had  never  looked  less  attractive  than  it  did 
to-night,  when  it  laid  a  firm  hand  on  Naomi's  heart,  and 
forced  her  to  acknowledge  that  truth  had  not  changed, 
and  that  Kennedy  Poteet  was  no  less  a  murderer  to-day 
than  when  she  found  in  the  "bone  cave"  the  indisput- 
able evidence  of  his  guilt.  And  Marshall  Lane  Ruther- 
ford was  his  nephew,  and  the  gainer  by  his  crimes,  as 
fully  now  as  he  had  ever  been.  The  situation  was  in 
no  sense  altered  by  the  fact  that  the  young  man  lay  at 
the  point  of  death. 

The  angry  pain  in  the  girl's  heart  had  perhaps  some- 


272  VISITING   THE    SIN 

thing  to  do  with  her  readiness  to  mete  out  a  measure  of 
justice  to  her  brother.  It  was  just  like  Dal  to  upset 
things  now  that  he  was  so  near  success.  A  few  more 
months,  and  he  could,  if  he  chose,  make  a  move  that 
would  be  profitable  to  himself.  To-day  he  was  penniless. 
He  simply  could  not  quarrel  with  Will  Hollingsworth. 
The  moment  was  the  most  inopportune  possible.  He 
would  have  to  give  in.  She  would  smooth  the  way  for 
him  with  Will,  and  leave  him  to  take  the  rest  of  the 
consequences  himself.  Will  would  be  glad  enough  to 
see  him  go  back  to  work  again.  Dal  was  as  necessary 
to  the  success  of  the  mill  as  the  mill  owner's  money  was 
necessary  to  Dal.  They  were  all  dependent  on  each 
other,  and  it  was  foolish  to  quarrel. 

And  yet,  in  her  heart,  Naomi  never  felt  more  like 
quarrelling  than  she  did  to-night,  only  she  did  not  quite 
know  with  whom  to  quarrel.  The  real  quarrel  was  with 
herself. 

Not  so  Will  Hollingsworth.  His  quarrel  was  never 
with  the  mill  owner.  When  Will  and  the  world  were  at 
daggers  drawn,  it  was  always  the  world  that  was  to 
blame.  At  the  present  moment  it  was  only  a  piece  of 
the  world.  Dal  was  a  fool,  always  had  been,  and  always 
would  be.  He  was  an  aggravating  fool.  But  fools  were 
not  always  prejudicial  factors  in  a  case.  They  had 
been  known  to  be  useful  before  now. 

Will  was  not  as  sure  as  Naomi  that  Dal  would  be 
willing  to  resume  work  at  the  mill.  He  was  not  at  all 
certain  that  he  desired  such  an  ending  to  the  quarrel. 
Dai's  influence  with  Naomi  was  decidedly  against  him. 
It  was  the  last  thing  he  would  have  told  Naomi,  but  to 
himself  he  acknowledged  that  if  the  mill  could  get  on 
without  the  superintendent,  the  mill  owner  could,  and  if 
the  mill  could  not, —  well,  there  was  a  possibility  that  the 
mill  might  be  left  to  take  its  chance. 

If  it  had  been  a  question  of  getting  on  without  the 


VISITING   THE    SIN  273 

superintendent's  sister,  the  answer  would  have  been 
different.  Fortunately,  it  was  not.  Will  had  with  some 
dexterity  assured  himself  on  that  point.  It  was  a  funda- 
mental one.  If  the  superintendent's  sister  could  not  be 
retained  without  the  superintendent,  the  superintendent 
must  not  go. 

Will's  real  quarrel,  however,  was  not  with  Dal.  His 
mind  was  in  a  decided  state  of  unrest,  but  it  was  not 
Dalbert  Mozingo  who  was  answerable  for  that  condition. 
When  Will  consigned  himself  to  the  sheets,  and  con- 
cluded to  give  himself  up  to  slumber,  his  last  thoughts 
were  not  of  his  manager.  Nor  had  Dal  any  consider- 
able share  of  his  waking  projects  when,  a  short  time 
after  the  sun  showed  a  red  rim  above  the  hills,  he  let 
himself  out  into  a  dewy,  half  awakened  world,  and 
walked  down  to  the  valley  road. 

Any  one  not  conversant  with  Will  Hollingsworth's 
feelings  might  have  imagined  that  he  was  bound  for  the 
home  of  Mrs.  Felps,  to  inquire  after  the  welfare  of 
Marshall  Lane  Rutherford.  He  took  the  path  over  the 
low-lying  fields  that  led  across  to  the  mountain.  Before 
he  reached  the  cottage,  however,  he  turned  off,  passing 
the  shallow  excavations  from  which,  in  the  days  before 
the  war,  men  dug  iron  ore  for  the  village  blacksmith  to 
turn  into  horse-shoes  and  plough-shares.  Beyond  the 
shallow  mines  he  came  upon  another  house,  and  was 
early  enough  to  see  its  owner  emerge  from  the  door,  a 
little  sleepy-looking  about  the  eyes,  as  befitted  the  first 
minutes  of  a  day  hardly  yet  begun. 

"  Good  morning,  Wash,"  said  Will  briskly.  "  I  came 
to  see  when  you  aimed  to  have  them  logs  sawed." 

"Oh,  I  hain't  in  nary  bit  of  a  hurry,"  replied  the 
other,  not  without  some  indications  of  surprise.  "I 
warn't  calc'latin'  to  hev  'em  cut  jist  at  present." 

"  I'm  glad  of  it,"  said  the  mill  owner  heartily.  "  I'm 
considerable  driven  just  now.  There's  men  want  more 


274  VISITING   THE    SIN 

sawing  done  than  I  can  get  through.  I  was  reckonin' 
on  taking  an  order  from  a  man  aout  Jellico  way  for  a 
tolerable  big  lot  of  lumber,  but  I  warn't  aimin'  to  put 
my  friends  aout  none  for  hi-im.  If  you  wa-ant  them 
boards  done,  you  can  have  'em.  I  only  wanted  to  know." 

The  young  man  —  for  he  was  some  four  or  five  years 
younger  than  Will  —  shook  his  head. 

"  I  hain't  in  nary  bit  of  a  hurry,"  he  said. 

"That's  good  news,"  replied  Will,  following  the  other 
into  the  barn. 

In  spite  of  his  vaunted  pressure  of  business  the  mill 
owner  seemed  in  no  hurry  to  get  back  to  the  mill.  He 
strolled  around  after  Wash  Forehand  while  the  latter 
fed  his  mules  and  his  cow.  From  the  mules  the  talk 
went  to  other  subjects  ;  and  when  the  animals  were  fed, 
the  two  men  stood  lounging  against  the  hay-mow,  talk- 
ing still.  "  Hit  hain't  a  pleasant  thing  to  hev  round," 
the  young  man  was  saying. 

"No,  it  ain't"  replied  the  mill  owner  emphatically. 
"  You've  got  a  mother,  and  sisters,  Wash  ;  and  you've  a 
right  to  think  of  the-em.  It  ain't  as  if  it  had  been  kept 
aout  of  the  way,  as  you  might  say,  in  Ab  Poteet's  house. 
He  hadn't  nary  one  to  think  of  but  himself;  and  if  he 
was  to  catch  it,  why,  I  ain't  sayin'  there'd  be  much  harm 
done.  But  now  —  well,  it's  tolerable  near  to  you-u,  and 
there's  Norah — " 

He  stopped  reflectively,  took  a  stalk  of  hay,  and  began 
chewing  it. 

"Yes,  hit  is  tol'rable  near,"  said  Wash  with  some 
irritation.  "Hit  hain't  jist  right  that  hit  should  be  so 
near." 

"It  ain't,  Wash.  That's  plumb  true,"  replied  Will, 
still  chewing  the  grass-stalk  meditatively.  "  It's  hard 
on  you-u.  And  there's  that  girl  to  think  of.  She  ain't 
thinkin'  of  herself  none.  Girls  don't  when  there's  a  man 
they  ain't  consider  in'  just  exactly  in  the  same  light  as 


VISITING   THE   SIN  275 

other  men  plumb  in  front  of  the  question.  It  ain't  to 
be  expected  that  Norah  will  think  till  she's  down  with 
the  small-pox.  She's  a  powerful  fine  girl  is  Norah,  a 
powerful  fine  gi-irl." 

He   stopped    to   chew   the   hay-stalk  appreciatively. 

Wash  Forehand  remained  silent. 

"  I  ain't  saying  you-u  should  do  ary  thing  in  the  mat- 
ter," continued  Will  after  a  long  pause.  "  It  ain't  an 
easy  question  to  decide.  But  if  ary  person  should  feel 
it  right  to  take  that  sick  man  plumb  out  o'  this  valley, 
it  would  be  a  mighty  good  thing  for  the  valley  —  and 
for  Norah  Felps.  I'm  pitying  that  poor  girl,  all  the 
more  that  I  know  her  heart's  in  the  nursin'." 

He  glanced  meditatively  at  Wash  as  he  spoke,  and 
was  not  surprised  to  see  the  hot  blood  reddening  face 
and  neck. 

"  I  hain't  calc'latin'  Norah  feels  a  mite  more  interest 
in  Marshall  Rutherford  than  in  ary  other  sick  man," 
said  Wash  uneasily.  "  She's  a  good-hearted  girl,  and 
she's  sorry  for  him.  She  hain't  expectin'  to  ketch  hit, 
but  she  mi-ight." 

"  Yes,  she  mi-ight,"  said  Will. 

"  Marshall  Rutherford  don't  belong  this  away,"  he 
resumed  after  a  considerable  silence.  "He's  only  come 
here  lately.  It's  the  place  where  he  belongs  that  ought 
to  take  care  of  hi-im.  It's  plumb  wrong  that  he  should 
cost  that  girl  her  life  —  or  her  pretty  face.  She's  a 
powerful  pretty  girl,  I  declare." 

There  was  no  need  to  tell  Wash  Forehand  that. 
Everybody  knew  that  Norah' s  pretty  face  had  turned 
his  head  long  ago. 

"  Hit  hain't  right  to  leave  him  thar,"  he  said  doubt- 
fully. 

"  It's  plumb  wrong,"  replied  Will.  "  It's  nothing  to 
me.  I  ain't  afraid  of  small-pox.  Had  it  when  I  was  a 
young  un.  But  I  don't  like  to  see  an  injustice  done; 


276  VISITING   THE    SIN 

and  I  say  it  is  an  injustice  to  that  girl,  and  to  your 
mother  and  sisters  too,  to  leave  that  sick  man  right  there 
among  folks  the  way  he  is  now.  It's  plumb  wrong,  and 
it  would  be  a  real  benefit  to  everybody  round  here  if  ary 
person  should  see  his  way  to  alter  it.  But  it  ain't  my 
business." 

He  pulled  the  hay-stalk  from  his  mouth,  and  threw  it 
away.  Then  he  straightened  himself. 

"Well,  I  reckon  I'd  better  be  moving,"  he  said. 
"  There's  a  smart  sight  of  sawing  to  be  done  before  sun- 
down." 

He  went  back  across  the  fields  with  a  smile  on  his 
face  that  certainly  was  not  heaven-born,  and  that  hardly 
owed  its  origin  to  earth.  He  was  just  in  time  to  meet 
Dalbert  coming  out  of  the  house. 

"  I'm  going  to  see  about  a  wagon  to  carry  my  things 
away,"  said  the  young  man  shortly. 

"  Don't  hurry  yourself,"  replied  Will,  with  perfect 
coolness.  "Take  your  time.  I  think  there's  a  day  or 
two's  money  between  us.  You  can  have  it  when  you 
like." 

"  As  well  now  as  any  other  time,"  replied  Dalbert. 

The  young  man's  face  was  paler  than  usual.  He  had 
just  learned  that  Naomi's  refusal  to  leave  the  boarding- 
house  was  something  more  than  a  piece  of  temporary 
opposition.  He  was  as  much  surprised  at  her  deter- 
mination as  she  was  at  the  news  that  he  had  actually 
hired  a  farm.  They  looked  at  each  other  in  something 
like  consternation. 

"Well,  I  never  thought  you'd  be  so  plumb  foolish," 
she  said. 

"  Does  it  look  foolish  to  you  to  be  tired  of  this  ? "  he 
asked.  "  It's  real,  powerful  real.  I'll  not  stand  another 
day  of  it.  You've  got  to  choose  between  me  and  Will 
Hollingsworth,  Naomi." 

He  looked  angry,  but  his  voice  was  gentle.  There 
was  entreaty  in  his  eyes. 


VISITING   THE    SIN  277 

"  You  put  it  wrong,"  she  said.  "  It's  a  choice  between 
starvation  and  the  boarding-house.  I'll  stick  to  the 
boarding-house.' ' 

His  face  grew  pale. 

«  You  mean  it  ? "  he  asked. 

"  Of  course  I  do.     I  should  be  a  fool  if  I  didn't." 

He  turned  away  from  her ;  but  when  he  reached  the 
door,  he  stopped.  Then  he  came  back. 

"  No,  I  can't  go  so,"  he  said.  "  Naomi,  you  are  not 
realising  what  you  are  doing." 

"  Oh,  I'll  get  an  old  woman  in  to  play  propriety,"  she 
said.  "  I  want  some  help." 

"  And  you  won't  come  ? " 

"I  won't  come." 

She  looked  him  full  in  the  face. 

"Then  I'll  go,"  he  said.  "And  I'll  not  come  back. 
While  you  go  one  way  and  I  go  another,  the  further  we 
are  apart  the  better." 

Again  he  turned  at  the  door. 

"  I  shall  come  for  the  contents  of  my  own  room,"  he 
said.  "  The  rest  of  the  things  I  will  leave  for  you." 

Then  he  went  out,  and  met  Will. 


278  VISITING   THE    SIN 


CHAPTER   XIX 

"f  •  iHERE'S  a  si-ight  of  difference  between  having 
a  sister  to  do  things  for  you  and  having  every- 

JL    thing  on  your  own  hands." 

Dalbert  was  down  on  his  knees  scrubbing  a  floor 
that,  to  judge  by  appearances,  was  receiving  its  first 
application  of  sand  and  water  that  evening.  His  reflec- 
tions took  character  from  his  occupation. 

Dal  was  tired.  He  had  come  in  from  a  long  day's 
ploughing,  with  muscles  aching  from  the  unaccustomed 
labour,  and  prepared  his  own  supper  in  a  house  dirty 
enough  to  take  away  the  appetite  of  even  a  hungry  man. 
Then  he  had  set  to  work  with  a  stone  and  some  sand  to 
scrub  off  the  top  coat  of  dirt  from  that  cabin  floor.  It 
was  not  a  hopeful  occupation.  And  the  thoughts  which 
were  an  accompaniment  to  the  work  were  not  of  a  kind 
calculated  to  lighten  the  labour. 

The  young  man  was  worried  about  Naomi,  and  his 
own  prospects  were  not  promising  enough  to  be  an  offset 
to  his  anxiety.  It  was  well  that  his  credit  was  good  at 
the  village  store,  or  he  might  have  had  to  ponder  over 
the  question  of  providing  dinners  and  breakfasts  as  well 
as  cooking  them.  Credit  does  not  furnish  the  best  of 
sauces  for  a  frugal  meal,  however ;  and  Dalbert 's  supper 
had  been  of  a  strictly  frugal  character.  The  situation 
looked  gloomy,  and  that  log  cabin  more  so.  Dal 
scrubbed  and  pondered,  and  grew  more  tired  and  less 
hopeful,  and  then  went  to  bed  and  worried  about  Naomi. 

It  was  on  the  same  evening,  while  Dalbert  was  yet 
struggling  with  the  dirt  on  the  cabin  floor,  that  a  little 
shock-headed,  wild-eyed  lad  might  have  been  seen  —  if 


VISITING   THE    SIN  279 

there  had  been  anybody  to  see  him  —  hurrying  across 
the  fields  in  the  direction  of  the  old  ore  mine.  His 
progress  was  not  in  proportion  to  his  haste.  The  night 
was  dark,  and  he  had  no  lantern.  Ridges  and  holes 
were  as  plentiful  as  was  to  be  expected  when  a  traveller 
had  left  the  path  and  struck  across  rough  pasture  land 
in  the  neighbourhood  of  the  mountains.  Caution  was  as- 
suredly in  place  on  this  dark  evening.  There  were,  too, 
risks  enough  of  another  nature  to  make  a  little  lad,  out 
alone  in  the  darkness,  look  sharply  about  him.  The 
graveyard  was  behind,  some  distance  behind,  but  near 
enough  to  have  a  suggestive  effect  on  his  thoughts. 
Moreover,  night  was  the  time  for  witches  to  be  abroad  ; 
and  everybody  knew  that  witches  were  plentiful  in  that 
region.  The  boy  recalled  stories  of  witch-riding  where- 
in the  horse  had  been  man  or  boy  metamorphosed  for 
the  occasion,  and  the  riding  had  lacked  nothing  but 
mercy.  He  grew  hot  and  anxious,  peering  into  the 
darkness  with  eyes  that  were  ready  for  any  uncanny 
sight.  He  wished  he  had  a  lantern,  and  then  grunted 
contemptuously  at  the  thought  that  the  last  thing 
he  desired  was  to  draw  attention  to  his  presence  by  the 
twinkling  light  of  a  moving  lantern. 

He  hurried  along,  making  as  direct  a  line  for  Mrs. 
Felps's  cottage  as  the  darkness  would  permit.  As  he 
passed  beyond  the  last  belt  of  trees,  the  light  from  the 
windows  gave  him  courage.  He  broke  into  a  run,  his 
forward  dash  accompanied  by  more  than  one  nervous 
glance  over  his  shoulder.  His  breathlessness  when  he 
reached  the  door  was  not  altogether  to  be  attributed  to 
the  exertion  of  running.  He  came  in  with  a  rush. 

"I've  done  got  here  fust.  .  He  hain't  within  hearin' 
yit." 

As  the  door  burst  open,  a  little  black-eyed  woman 
sprang  to  her  feet. 

"Mercy  sakes,  boy!  what  du  you  mean  by  comin' 


280  VISITING   THE    SIN 

he-ere  ?  "  she  cried.  "  Don't  you  know  thar's  small-pox 
in  this  house?  Git  aout  o'  here  quick,  if  you  hain't 
aimin'  to  be  tuk  with  hit." 

The  boy  retreated  a  step,  and  stood  in  the  doorway, 
hesitating  between  the  darkness  without  and  the  danger 
within. 

"I  hain't  inside,"  he  said  doggedly.  "You  listen  to 
me.  Hev  you-uns  contrairied  John  Kisselbaugh  ary 
way  ?  Has  he  got  ary  grudge  agin  ye  ?  If  he  has, 
you'd  better  lue-uke  aout.  I  come  to  tell  ye.  I  warn't 
wantin'  him  to  git  the  better  o'  ke-er" 

He  nodded  towards  an  inner  room.  He  had  heard 
Norah's  voice. 

"  Come  to  tell  what  ? " 

Mrs.  Felps  looked  puzzled. 

"That  John's  aimin'  to  be  here  to-night,"  replied  the 
little  lad.  "  I  cain't  tell  what  for.  He  warn't  sayin' 
tha-at.  But  I  heared  him  say  he  was  a-comin'.  He  was 
a-laffin  to  himself,  and  cursin'  the  mules  'cause  they 
didn't  git  home  fast  enough.  '  Git  up,  you  lazy  brutes  ! ' 
says  he,  flourishin'  his  whip  like  a  good  un.  '  Hain't  I 
got  to  tumble  this  load  aout  and  git  turned  round  like 
a  flash  to  pay  that  upstart  gal  a  leetle  visit  ?  Lor  !  my 
dear,  won't  them  black  eyes  o'  yourn  shine  when  we 
come  along  ?  I  hain't  forgot  the  last  time  I  was  in  yer 
company,  my  dear,'  says  he.  '  I  hadn't  as  many  of  my 
friends  with  me  then  as  I  should  'a  liked  ;  but  bless  your 
shinin'  eyes,  Norah,  gal,  I  hain't  comin'  unattended 
thi-is  time.'  And  with  that  he  started  wallopin'  the 
mules,  and  I  slipped.  I  thought  he  was  a-comin'  plumb 
directly.  I  wanted  to  warn  he-er.  If  he's  got  a  grudge 
agin  her,  you'd  better  look  aou-ut." 

"  Lor  me !  What  should  the  man  be  comin'  here 
for?"  said  Mrs.  Felps.  "Mercy  alive!  He'd  better 
no-ot.  This  hain't  a  house  to  come  visit  in'  in." 

"  How  long  was  hit  since  you  see  John  ? " 


VISITING   THE    SIN  281 

The  words  were  quick  and  sharp.  So  were  the  eyes 
of  the  girl  who  came  through  an  inner  door  into  the 
room. 

"  Not  a  powerful  while." 

"  Did  you  come  straight  here  ? " 

"  I  reckon." 

"Wha'r  was  John?" 

"  On  the  road  comin'  from  Big  Creek.  He'd  got  to 
go  home,  I  reckon ;  but  he  was  wallopin'  the  mules  for 
all  he  was  worth.  It  wouldn't  take  him  long." 

"Was  he  drunk?" 

"  I  reckon." 

There  was  a  minute's  silence.  It  was  broken  by  the 
girl. 

"All  right,  Jimmy  boy,"  she  said  appreciatively. 
"  Hit's  worth  somethin'  to  hev  a  friend  like  you,  hain't 
hit?  You're  more  good  than  a  dozen  men,  I  dec  tar. 
We'll  be  ready  for  visitors,  now  you've  give  us  notice. 
Lor !  we'll  hev  all  the  best  china  aout,  and  the  johnny- 
cake  a-cuekin'  time  they  co-ome." 

The  boy  laughed. 

"John's  a  bad  un,"  he  said  doubtfully.  "He's  a 
bully  man,  when  he's  got  a  grudge  agin  ary  person." 

"  Lor,  yes  ! "  said  the  girl.  "  John  hain't  a  lamb.  But 
you  wait,  Jimmy  Paul  —  you  wa-it." 

The  boy  laughed  again. 

"  What  '11  you  du  ? "  he  asked.  "  I'd  powerful  like  to 
see  John  plumb  tuk  daown." 

"  Would  ye  ?  "  said  the  girl.  "  We-el,  you-u  won't  see 
hit,  because  you've  got  to  go.  Hit  wouldn't  du  for  you-u 
to  be  seen  this  away.  John  might  git  a  grudge  agin 
you-u.  No,  Jimmy  Paul,  you  jist  fly,  and  git  back  afore 
John  comes.  We-uns  '11  fix  hi-im." 

"  I  reckon,"  said  the  boy,  lingering  a  moment  before 
he  went  out  into  the  darkness. 

Norah  crossed  over  to  the  door,  and  locked  it. 


282  VISITING   THE    SIN 

"  Mammy !  "  she  said,  turning  to  the  little  black-eyed 
woman  by  the  hearth. 

"  Hit's  plumb  dangerous,"  said  Mrs.  Felps,  in  answer 
to  that  unspoken  expression  of  opinion.  "John's  pow- 
erful rough  when  he's  drunk." 

"  Hit  is  dangerous,"  said  the  girl.  "He  hain't  forgot 
the  shakin'  Abner  give  him  in  the  cave.  He's  meanin' 
somethin'." 

"He  dassen't  touch  ur-rs,"  said  the  mother  scornfully. 

"  He  hain't  atter  ur-rs,"  replied  Norah.  "  He  hain't 
aimin'  to  lay  a  finger  on  we-uns.  Mammy  hit's  hi-im." 

She  nodded  towards  the  inner  room,  from  whence  a 
man's  voice  was  audible  now  and  again  in  strange  mut- 
terings. 

Mrs.  Felps  shook  her  head. 

"  What  should  John  want  with  hi-im  ? "  she  said. 
"Hit's  you  he's  aimin'  to  hurt,  honey.  He's  got  a 
grudge  agin  you  for  what  Ab  done." 

She  was  looking  questioningly  into  the  girl's  face. 
There  was  no  fear  in  that  look,  but  there  was  loving 
anxiety.  That  beautiful  girlish  face  was  the  sun  of  the 
mother's  world. 

"I  know,"  replied  Norah.  "But  John  hain't  aimin' 
to  touch  ur-rs.  He'd  powerful  li-ike  to  du  hit,  but  he 
cain't.  And  John  knows  hit.  Thar's  nary  man  in  Big 
Creek  Gap  would  lay  finger  on  we-uns." 

She  lifted  her  head  proudly. 

A  light  leapt  to  the  mother's  eyes. 

"  That's  plumb  true,"  she  said.  "  John  would  hev  to 
go  clar  beyond  Big  Creek  Gap  to  find  a  man  that  would 
du  aught  agin  you-u." 

"No,  we  hain't  nothin'  to  fear,"  replied  the  girl. 
"Mammy,  don't  you  see  what  he's  atter?  He's  aimin' 
to  hurt  us  through  ki-im"  Again  there  was  a  glance 
towards  the  inner  room.  "Thar  hain't  a  man  save 
John  himself  would  go  agin  ur-rs,  but  thar's  fifty  plumb 


VISITING   THE    SIN  283 

ready  to  go  agin  hi-im.  We've  done  gone  and  put  our- 
selves on  the  losin'  side.  We've  tuk  Marshall  in,  when 
we'd  ought er  let  him  die.  Thar's  them  that  would  be 
ready  enough  to  show  us  we  cain't  du  what  we  like  with 
our  own  house  if  what  we  like  is  he'pin'  Ab  or  Marshall. 
We-el,  let  'em  put  hit  to  the  test." 

She  gave  her  head  a  little  scornful  toss. 

"  They  cain't  touch  a  sick  man,"  said  Mrs.  Felps ; 
but  she  said  it  doubtfully. 

Norah  laughed  contemptuously. 

"Is  John  Kisselbaugh  the  feller  to  stop  for  a  sick 
man  ? "  she  said.  "  Lor !  the  sicker  he  is,  the  more  that 
coward  will  du.  He'd  maybe  stop  for  a  well  man.  If 
Marshall  Rutherford  could  stand  up  to  him,  John  would 
sha-ake  in  his  shoes ;  but  a  sick  man's  jist  the  game  for 
hi-im." 

" Thar's  truth  in  tha-at,"  said  her  mother.  "But  if 
they've  got  a  sick  man  to  deal  with  in  Marshall,  they 
hain't  got  a  sick  woman  in  me-e." 

The  girl  was  silent.  Her  mother  watched  her  for  a 
minute. 

"  What  is  it,  honey  ? " 

"  Mammy ! " 

Her  eyes  were  shining. 

"We-ell,  darter?" 

"They  hain't  goin'  to  touch  Marshall.  We-uns  are 
goin'  to  see  to  tha-at,"  said  the  girl.  "  But  you've  got 
to  let  me  hev  my  own  way.  Thar's  danger  for  him 
to-night.  We-uns  hain't  no  match  for  a  lot  o'  drunken 
men.  John's  a  brute  when  he's  tight.  He  hain't  much 
less  'n  a  brute  when  he's  had  nary  a  drop.  Mammy,  we 
hain't  goin'  to  let  'em  kill  him  naow." 

She  came  up  close  to  her  mother,  and  the  eyes  that 
looked  straight  into  those  of  the  little  woman  were 
pleading. 

Mrs.  Felps  shook  her  head. 


284  VISITING   THE    SIN 

"  I  cain't  promise  anything,  honey/'  she  said.  "  I've 
got  to  know  fust." 

"  Mammy,  you  will  let  me  —  you  must.  I  —  I  cain't 
let  him  die,  and  roughness  of  ary  kind  would  kill  him." 

She  put  her  hands  on  her  mother's  shoulders,  and 
looked  down  into  her  face.  Whatever  those  eyes  said 
in  that  long  look  of  confidence,  they  said  eloquently. 

The  mother  sighed,  and  then  laughed. 

"  I  hain't  expectin'  thar  '11  be  as  much  trouble  as  you-u 
think,"  she  said.  "But  du  as  you  li-ike.  Only  I  hain't 
goin'  to  let  no  harm  come  to  you-u." 

The  girl  bent  forward  for  a  moment,  and  her  lips 
touched  the  little  woman's  forehead.  Then  she  moved 
back  with  a  laugh. 

"Thar  hain't  no  danger  to  me,"  she  said.  "Thar 
wouldn't  be  no  danger  to  him  if  he  warn't  so  powerful 
sick.  But  John  hain't  comin'  for  nothin'.  He  means 
harm  to  somebody,  and  he  knows  he  cain't  touch  ur-rs." 

"Well,  what  is  hit?"  said  Mrs.  Felps.  "Thar  hain't 
no  time  to  lose." 

It  took  but  a  minute  to  explain,  and  then  mother  and 
daughter  stood  looking  at  each  other. 

"  Thar  is  danger  to  you,"  said  the  older  woman,  after 
that  long  look.  "Thar  hain't  no  real  need  to  du  hit. 
Thar's  them  we  could  git  to  stan'  by  us  if  we  hurry. 
Wash  hain't  fur  off.  He'd  come.  He'd  do  ary  thing 
you-u  asked  him." 

"I  hain't  goin'  to  ask  one  thing  of  Wash,"  said  the 
girl  sharply.  "And  if  he  was  to  come,  he'd  be  no 
match  for  that  crew.  He's  only  one,  anyway.  Thar 
hain't  many  would  come  aout  to  he'p  Marshall  Ruther- 
ford." 

She  broke  off.  Through  the  still  air  there  came  a 
harsh,  discordant  shout,  the  effort  of  voices  not  well 
under  control. 

"Hurry,  mammy,"   said  Norah.       "They're    comin', 


VISITING   THE    SIN  285 

and  thar's  a  tol'rable  many  of  'em.  They're  drunk, 
too,"  she  added. 

Mother  and  daughter  went  into  the  inner  room. 
There  was  no  time  for  protest. 

"  You've  got  to  keep  him  quiet,"  said  Mrs.  Felps. 

For  answer  the  girl  stepped  to  the  window-sill,  and 
took  up  a  bottle. 

"Thar's  the  sleepin'  mixture  doc  left,"  she  said. 
"Hit'll  quiet  him  in  fifteen  minutes.  They've  got  to 
be  kept  aout  from  this  part  till  the-en." 

Quietly,  as  if  danger  were  not  momentarily  coming 
nearer,  the  girl  raised  the  sick  man's  head.  The  sound 
of  her  voice  caused  him  to  look  up  rationally,  and  at  her 
bidding  he  emptied  the  cup  she  held  to  his  lips. 

Again  there  came  the  discordant  shout.  In  the  quiet 
of  the  evening  —  for  at  that  hour  the  stillness  around  the 
cottage  beneath  the  mountain  was  as  absolute  as  in  the 
dead  of  night  —  that  wild  laughter  was  startling.  A 
scrap  of  song,  a  derisive  shout,  a  burst  of  loud  mirth, 
succeeded  each  other ;  and  then  a  yell,  blood-curdling 
enough  to  suggest  the  days  of  savages  and  scalping, 
made  the  heavy  night  air  ring.  The  sick  man  started 
up,  and  began  talking  loudly.  The  noise  without  had  a 
disturbing  effect  on  his  fevered  brain.  It  was  Norah's 
voice  that  quieted  him,  and  her  hand  that  coaxed  his 
head  back  again  on  the  pillow.  This  accomplished,  the 
girl  turned  to  her  mother. 

"  Quick !  They're  'most  here,"  she  said.  "  We'll 
carry  him  on  his  bed  jist  as  he's  lay  in'." 

"  Hit  hain't  goin'  to  be  plumb  easy,"  said  her  mother. 

"  No,  hit  hain't ;  but  hit's  goin'  to  be  done,"  replied 
the  girl. 

They  did  it,  and  quickly.  Before  the  sounds  without 
told  them  that  the  wagon-load  of  men  approached  the 
house,  the  patient  was  transferred  to  an  inner  room,  to 
which  access  could  only  be  gained  by  the  one  from 
whence  he  had  been  removed. 


286  VISITING   THE   SIN 

"  They're  nearly  here,  mammy,"  said  the  girl  quietly. 

She  turned  from  the  bedside,  and  listened. 

"  Yes.  Hit's  time  for  you  to  go,"  she  continued. 
"  I'll  fix  the  bed  in  the  other  rue-ume.  You  keep  the 
door  locked  till  you  hear  a  right  smart  o'  coughin'  inside." 

"/'//  fasten  hit,"  said  Mrs.  Felps.  "And  I  hain't 
calc'latin'  to  open  hit  agin  for  the-em.  I  hain't  reckonin' 
on  havin'  nary  person  in  my-y  rooms  without  invitin'. 
You  can  du  as  you  sa-ay,  but  I'm  goin'  to  have  my  talk 
fust." 

She  went  out,  turning  the  key  in  the  big  wooden  lock 
that  fortunately  secured  the  door  between  the  outer  and 
inner  rooms.  The  house  had  more  conveniences  than 
were  to  be  found  in  some  of  the  dwellings  in  Big  Creek 
Gap. 

She  had  hardly  put  the  key  in  her  pocket  before  there 
was  a  knock  on  the  outer  door, —  not  a  riotous  hammer- 
ing, as  she  had  expected,  but  a  decorous  knock.  The 
little  woman  went  up  to  the  door. 

"  Who's  thar  ? "  she  asked  in  a  voice  perfectly  free 
from  either  fear  or  suspicion. 

"  Oh,  one  or  two  of  we-uns  come  to  pay  you  a  visit. 
What  are  you-all  keepin'  your  door  locked  for  ?  Hit 
hain't  powerful  late." 

The  little  woman  almost  forgot  in  her  surprise  to 
answer,  for  the  speaker  was  Wash  Forehand.  She 
stepped  back  to  the  inner  room,  unlocked  the  door,  and 
put  her  head  inside. 

"Thar  hain't  nothin'  to  fear.  Wash  is  among  'em," 
she  said. 

The  girl  was  by  her  side  in  a  moment. 

"Hush!  I  hain't  trustin'  Wash,"  she  said.  "Du 
plumb  the  same  as  if  he  warn't  thar." 

She  gave  her  mother  a  little  push,  and  waited  until 
the  key  turned  again  in  the  lock.  Her  patient  was  quiet 
now.  The  sleeping  draught  was  taking  effect.  The 


VISITING  THE   SIN  287 

girl  ventured  to  leave  him  long  enough  to  carry  into  the 
next  room  the  bed  that  had  been  displaced  for  his 
accommodation.  She  stopped  to  listen  to  another  knock 
at  the  door. 

"What's  up  here?  Is  everybody  dead?"  inquired 
a  fresh  voice  from  without. 

"  Nary  bit  of  hit,"  replied  Mrs.  Felps  stoutly.  "  But 
this  hain't  no  house  to  come  visitin'  in.  Hain't  nary  one 
of  ye  beared  thar's  small-pox  here?  I  hain't  goin'  to 
hev  nobody  inside." 

"  You  hain't  ? " 

This  time  it  was  John  Kisselbaugh  who  spoke. 

"  No,  I  hain't.  If  you  hain't  got  no  consideration  for 
yourselves,  I've  got  some  for  ye,  whoever  you  may  be. 
Didn't  I  hear  your  voice,  Wash  ?  " 

"  Yes.  Open  the  door.  I  want  to  come  in  and  hev 
a  talk  with  you." 

The  tongue  spoke  thickly.  Wash  had  been  calling  a 
little  false  courage  to  his  aid. 

"  I  cain't  let  neither  you  nor  nobody  else  in  to-night." 
The  little  woman's  tone  was  firm.  "  I'm  goin'  to  bed. 
Thar  hain't  none  too  much  sleep  to  be  had  whar  thar's 
sickness." 

"  We  hain't  goin'  to  keep  you  long,  and  you'll  sleep 
better  atter  we're  gone.  You'll  hev  a  plumb  quiet 
night's  rest,"  replied  Wash. 

"  Shall  I  ? "  said  Mrs.  Felps,  in  a  voice  not  intended 
to  reach  to  the  other  side  of  the  door.  "  So  that's  your 
game,  is  hit  ? " 

"  I'd  let  you  in  if  I  could,  but  I  cain't,"  she  said  aloud. 
"  Hit  wouldn't  be  no  more  for  your  good  than  for  mine. 
Are  you-uns  powerful  eager  to  ketch  the  small-pox  ? " 

"  No,  we  hain't.  And  we  hain't  powerful  eager  to  hev 
our  young  uns  ketch  hit,"  returned  John  Kisselbaugh 
savagely.  "You  jist  open  plumb  quick.  If  not,  hit 
hain't  goin'  to  take  we-uns  till  to-morrer  mornin'  to  try 
the  strength  o'  thi-is  door." 


288  VISITING  THE   SIN 

John  was  getting  impatient.  He  had  not  come  here 
to  be  kept  outside  and  cheated  of  the  pleasure  of  putting 
Norah  Felps  in  her  place. 

When  Wash  Forehand  decided  that  it  was  the  duty 
of  every  man  in  Big  Creek  Gap  to  see  that  danger  was 
removed  from  the  valley,  and  especially  that  it  was  re- 
moved from  Norah  Felps,  he  knew  that  he  might  count 
on  John  as  an  ally.  They  were  very  different  motives 
that  worked  in  the  two  men's  minds.  John  gloated 
over  the  opportunity  for  revenge.  As  for  Wash,  the 
poor  fellow  had  been  eaten  up  with  jealousy  from  the 
moment  when  Will  Hollingsworth  suggested  a  motive 
not  purely  philanthropic  for  Norah' s  care  of  her  patient. 
It  was  not  the  first  time  that  jealousy  of  Marshall  Lane 
Rutherford  had  stirred  in  his  heart.  He  had  more  than 
once  met  the  young  man  at  Mrs.  Felps' s  cottage.  The 
sight  of  that  lithe  figure  had  on  every  such  occasion 
caused  him  to  lose  his  temper,  and  the  loss  of  temper  had 
earned  him  a  contemptuous  snub  from  Norah.  He  was 
not  in  sympathy  with  Marshall  Lane  Rutherford,  even 
in  his  sickness  ;  and  Will's  words  woke  a  tempest  of  pas- 
sion in  his  heart.  Was  this  stranger,  this  nephew  of  a 
murderer,  to  come  here  with  his  wiles,  and  steal  away 
the  girl  who  was  the  one  prize  of  Big  Creek  Gap? 
She  was  ready  to  risk  her  life  for  him  now.  It  would 
not  take  much  to  make  her  ready  to  give  that  life  to 
him,  if  he  chose  to  ask  for  it.  Wash  brooded  over  the 
situation,  and,  as  he  grew  desperate,  had  recourse  to  the 
whisky  bottle.  His  heart  needed  strengthening.  It 
was  his  courage  that  needed  it  later,  after  the  heart  had 
evolved  a  scheme  that  satisfied  its  own  passion  but  left 
the  brain  aghast. 

Wash  would  never  have  thought  of  the  plan  if  Will 
Hollingsworth  had  not  suggested  the  danger  to  Big 
Creek  Gap  of  allowing  a  man  sick  with  small-pox  to  re- 
main in  the  village.  When  he  decided  to  take  Marshall 


VISITING   THE   SIN  289 

away  by  force,  he  persuaded  himself  that  the  course  was 
necessary  for  the  safety  of  the  neighbourhood,  and  that 
it  was  therefore  justifiable.  Why  should  one  man's  life 
stand  before  the  interests  of  a  whole  community  ?  And 
the  life  was  the  life  of  a  man  against  whom  Big  Creek 
Gap  had  set  its  face.  Marshall  Lane  Rutherford  had 
no  right  there  in  any  case.  Since  he  had  come,  and 
turned  out  a  menace  to  the  community,  it  was  per- 
fectly legitimate  to  take  steps  to  avert  the  danger.  If 
such  steps  involved  consequences  that  were  not  pleas- 
ant to  contemplate,  it  was  unfortunate  —  for  Marshall 
Lane  Rutherford.  It  did  not  materially  alter  the  case. 
There  were  consequences  equally  hard  to  accept  in 
leaving  him  where  he  was.  Why  should  Norah  and 
her  mother  be  exposed  to  contagion,  and  made  to  suffer 
through  him? 

Wash  was  not  in  the  full  possession  of  his  senses  when 
his  first  wild  schemes  took  definite  shape,  and  he  pre- 
pared to  put  them  into  action.  His  brain  was  maddened 
by  jealousy  and  inflamed  by  the  liquor  he  had  taken. 
When  Wash  was  sober,  he  was  harmless  as  a  baby.  But 
he  had  not  been  sober  since  Will  paid  him  that  morning 
visit,  and  to-night  he  had  drunk  deeply.  He  needed 
some  extra  support  to  carry  him  through  the  undertak- 
ing. It  was  a  drunken  man's  scheme,  and  it  needed  a 
drunken  man  to  carry  it  out. 

Wash  was  not  without  fear  that  he  would  offend 
Norah  beyond  hope  of  pardon,  but  his  jealousy  was  too 
strong  to  allow  that  consideration  full  weight.  He 
should  lose  her  in  any  case,  he  told  himself ;  but  he  could 
at  least  have  the  satisfaction  of  knowing  that  Marshall 
Rutherford  was  not  the  gainer  by  his  loss. 

The  men  to  whom  Wash  had  confided  a  part  of  his 
scheme  were  of  the  rougher  class  of  the  Big  Creek  com- 
munity. A  few  months  before,  even  this  fact  would  not 
have  been  sufficient  to  account  for  their  presence  on 


290  VISITING  THE    SIN 

such  an  errand  at  Mrs.  Felps's  cottage.  But  prejudice 
is  like  a  stone  rolling  down  hill.  It  gathers  momentum 
as  it  goes.  Will  Hollingsworth  had  set  it  moving,  and 
from  time  to  time  given  it  impetus  till  it  was  fairly  over 
the  brow  of  the  hill.  It  no  longer  needed  external 
force,  being  carried  forward  by  its  own  momentum. 
The  men  who  stood  by  Mrs.  Felps's  door  had  taken  up 
the  cause  against  Abner  Poteet  and  Marshall  Lane 
Rutherford.  They  had  taken  it  up  hotly.  They  were 
ready  for  anything. 

"  You'll  break  my  door  daown  !  " 

There  was  indignation  in  the  little  woman's  voice. 
She  gave  them  no  opportunity  to  do  it,  for  it  was  open 
now ;  and  she  stood  within,  with  eyes  blazing  at  the  half- 
dozen  men  before  her. 

"Well,  you're  a  pretty  set  of  neighbours,  I  dec/ar. 
To  come  along  this  away  when  a  woman's  tired  aout 
with  nursin'.  Break  my  door  daown !  I've  lived  in 
Big  Creek  Gap  ever  since  I  was  married,  and  I  never 
heared  sich  talk  as  that  afore,  except  from  the  rebels  in 
war  time.  Thar,  stan'  still  whar  you  are,  and  let  me  hev 
a  good  lue-uke  at  ye.  I  want  to  make  plumb  sure  which 
o'  my  neighbours  hit  is  that's  comin'  round  in  the  night- 
time threatenin'  two  women  with  breakin'  their  door 
daown." 

She  stood  with  one  hand  on  the  door,  and  the  other 
on  the  post,  in  such  a  way  that  it  was  not  easy  to  pass 
her, —  stood  and  looked  at  the  six  faces  gathered  round 
the  opening. 

"John  Kisselbaugh,  and  Jim  Harrison,  and  Burly 
France,  and  Frank  Powell,  and  Nim  Graham,  and  Wash 
Forehand.  What  are  you-u  doin'  here,  Wash  ?  You 
aimin*  at  breakin'  doors  daown  ? " 

"  Lor  me !  we  hain't  no  notion  o'  doin'  you-u  ary  mis- 
chief," said  Wash  uneasily.  "  Our  business  hain't  with 
you-u." 


VISITING   THE   SIN  291 

"  Hit  hain't  ?  I  hain't  so  sure.  Ary  business  inside 
this  house  has  got  to  be  with  me-e." 

She  stepped  aside  as  she  spoke,  and  threw  the  door 
open  wide.  She  had  seen  John  Kisselbaugh  making  a 
movement  to  push  past  her. 

"  Ary  one  that  comes  in  takes  the  consequences  on 
himself,"  she  said.  "I  hain't  askin'  one  on  ye  in.  I 
hain't  wantin'  ye.  I'd  be  proud  to  see  ye  go.  Thar 
hain't  a  mite  o'  sense  in  puttin'  yourselves  in  danger. 
And  you  hain't  none  on  ye  fit  company  for  women, 
neither.  You've  been  drinkin',  Wash,  and  so  hev  the 
rest  of  ye.  You're  all  tol'rable  full.  You  hain't  nice 
company,  and  I  hain't  wantin'  ye.  If  you're  men  in  ary 
other  sense  than  in  name,  you'll  go  right  aout.  I'd  be 
proud  to  say  good-night  to  ye." 

"We'll  go,  tol'rable  soon.  We  hain't  meanin'  no 
harm  to  you,"  said  Wash  sullenly.  "We're  jist  goin*  in 
to  look  at  that  sick  man." 

The  little  woman  stepped  between  the  men  and  the 
door  of  the  inner  room.  She  was  very  small,  but  she 
looked  formidable  at  that  moment. 

"No,  you  hain't,"  she  said,  as  the  men  stared  at  her  a 
little  nervously.  "  Thar  hain't  nary  one  of  you-uns  goin' 
further  'n  this  room  to-night.  What  you've  got  to  say, 
say  to  me,  and  say  hit  plumb  quick.  I  hain't  wantin'  to 
hear.  You  hain't  none  of  ye  fit  to  talk  to  a  woman." 

"  Hit  won't  take  long  to  say  what  we've  come  to  say," 
replied  Wash.  "  We-all  want  to  see  that  sick  man." 

"  You  cain't  see  him.  to-night,"  she  said,  "  nor  no 
other  night  till  he's  well.  He'll  be  proud  to  see  ye  then, 
I  reckon,  if  you  come  like  decent  men." 

"Whar's  Norah?"  asked  Wash  irrelevantly. 

Mrs.  Felps  stood  and  looked  up  at  him  for  a  moment. 
That  steady  gaze  disconcerted  the  big,  sullen  fellow. 
He  turned  his  eyes  away. 

"Whar  is  she?"  replied  the  little  woman.     "Whar 


292  VISITING  THE    SIN 

yoii-u  hain't  like  to  git  speech  with  her.  You  hain't  fit 
to  talk  to  no  girl,  Wash.  You  hain't,  and  you  know  hit. 
Du  you  want  to  see  Norah  that  away?  Lor  sakes, 
man !  git  away  home,  and  hide  your  head !  Mercy ! 
she'd  never  speak  another  word  to  ary  one  of  the  set  of 
ye  if  she  was  to  see  ye  naow." 

Wash  wavered.  Mrs.  Felps  looked  at  the  men  with 
undaunted  eyes. 

"We-ell,  it's  a  si-ight,"  she  said.  "Here's  me  and 
Norah  got  enough  compassion  in  us  to  risk  a  /^-tle 
to  he'p  a  sick  man,  and  you-uns,  great  strong  fellers 
that  could  fight  a  bullock  easy,  that  skeered  at  a 
little  bit  o'  sickness  that  you  plumb  forgit  you're 
men.  Git  away  home,  du,  and  shet  yerselves  up  till 
the  man  in  ye  throttles  that  thar  coward  that  dassen't 
du  what  two  women  hain't  afraid  on.  Lor  !  you'd  ought 
to  be  comin'  to  he'p  with  the  nursin',  instead  of 
actin'  this  away.  Thar,  git  aout,  every  man  of  ye. 
Hit  hain't  safe  for  you-u  to  be  here.  If  you-uns  was 
to  ketch  hit,  you're  all  that  cowardly  you'd  whimper  like 
infants.  If  thar's  danger,  hit's  all  the  more  reason 
you-uns  should  run." 

"  We  hain't  goin'  to  run  away  from  you-u."  It  was 
John  Kisselbaugh  who  spoke.  '•  We're  goin'  in  that 
rue-ume,  and  we're  goin'  naow." 

The  little  woman  looked  into  the  coarse,  brutal  face, 
and  believed  that  the  man  spoke  the  truth.  He  would 
go  in,  and  go  in  soon. 

She  turned  to  the  rest.  "Are  you  men  aimin'  to 
stand  by  and  see  John  break  my  door  daown  ? "  she 
asked.  "  Wash,  hain't  you  got  a  mite  o'  manhood  left 
in  you-u  ? " 

Wash  looked  at  her  sullenly.  He  was  finding  his 
enterprise  unpleasant. 

"  We-uns  hain't  calc'latin'  to  du  you  no  harm,"  he 
said.  "  But  we're  goin'  in  thar.  If  we  hev  to  break 


VISITING   THE    SIN  293 

that  door  daown,  hit's  your  fault.  We  want  to  hev  a 
lueke  at  that  sick  man." 

"  What  else  du  you  want  to  du  beside  lueke  ? "  she 
asked. 

It  was  not  Wash  who  answered.  Jim  Harrison 
stepped  forward. 

"  Lueke  here,"  he  said.  "  We-uns  hain't  got  no 
grudge  agin  you  and  Norah.  Hit's  plumb  kind  of 
you-uns  to  be  willin*  to  he'p  a  neighbour.  But  Mar- 
shall Rutherford  hain't  no  neighbour  to  we-uns.  He 
hain't  belongin'  to  Big  Creek  Gap.  We  hain't  wantin' 
no  more  of  Kennedy  Poteet's  stock  in  here,  and  we 
hain't  aimin'  to  hev  'em.  We  hain't  wantin'  to  hev 
the  small-pox  go  right  through  the  place  on  account  of 
hi-im.  We  hain't  goin'  to  hurt  a  hair  of  his  head,  but 
we're  goin'  to  put  him  whar  he  cain't  du  no  harm  to 
nobody,  and  that  hain't  here.  He's  duin'  harm  to 
everybody  here.  He's  makin'  us  all  live  in  dread  and 
uneasiness.  Hit  hain't  right.  Hit's  got  to  be  altered." 

"  And  you-uns  are  goin'  to  alter  hit  ?  " 

«'  Yes." 

"  What  '11  you  du  with  him  ?  " 

"  Put  him  in  a  safe  place.  You've  got  to  leave  that 
to  we-uns." 

"A  nice  lot  to  leave  hit  to,"  she  said.  "You're  in 
a  fit  state  to  care  for  a  sick  man,  hain't  ye  ?  Well,  go 
in.  And  if  harm  comes  of  hit,  as  hit  will  come  if 
you-uns  carry  aout  what  you're  aimin'  to  du,  hit'll  rest 
on  your  souls.  You  hain't  goin'  to  shake  hit  offn  ye. 
Hit'll  stick.  But  /  cain't  stop  ye.  You're  six  big, 
strong  fellers,  and  I'm  one  little  woman.  I'd  be 
ashamed  to  lueke  at  myself  if  I  was  you-u.  I'd  hide  my 
head  quick.  Go  in.  You're  as  good  as  murderers, 
every  one  of  ye.  You'll  hev  to  answer  for  the  harm 
that's  in  you-uns'  hearts,  whether  you  succeed  in  carry- 
ing hit  aout  or  not.  You're  aimin'  to.  Don't  forgit 
tha-at." 


294  VISITING   THE    SIN 

She  threw  open  the  door.  She  had  heard  a  paroxysm 
of  coughing  inside. 

The  men  trooped  in.  They  had  left  their  lanterns  in 
the  wagon,  and  the  room  was  dark,  save  for  one  small 
lamp  that  burned  on  a  table  in  the  corner  farthest  from 
the  bed. 

"  You're  runnin'  a  tol'rable  big  risk,"  said  the  little 
woman  reflectively.  "He's  got  hit  bad.  Hit  hain't 
come  aout  as  hit  should,  but  his  face  is  powerful  red. 
Better  not  go  nearer  the  bed  than  you're  forced.  I 
hain't  wantin'  ye  to  ketch  hit,  though  hit  wouldn't  be  no 
more  'n  a  likely  judgment  if  every  one  of  you-uns  was 
daown  with  hit  afore  a  fortnight." 

Evidently  the  men  themselves  were  not  eager  to 
"ketch  hit."  They  stood  just  within  the  door  and 
looked  towards  the  bed,  where  a  flushed  face  was  par- 
tially hidden  by  the  bed-clothes.  A  towel  bound  round 
the  head  left  but  a  portion  of  the  face  visible,  and  there 
was  a  strong  smell  of  vinegar  in  the  room. 

"  Hit's  his  head  he's  always  complainin'  of,"  said  the 
little  woman  ;  and  as  she  spoke  a  groan  came  from  the 
lips  of  the  figure  upon  the  bed. 

"  Hit's  burstin',"  said  a  hoarse,  unnatural  voice. 

"  Feel  like  hurtin'  ary  one  that's  sufferin'  that  away  ? " 
said  Mrs.  Felps  significantly.  "Them  that  shows  no 
mercy  cain't  expect  to  receive  none.  Thar  is  justice, 
and  hit  lights  on  the  right  head  one  day." 

Nobody  answered  her,  but  John  Kisselbaugh  pushed 
forward. 

"  Come  on,"  he  said  savagely.  "  We  cain't  stay  here 
all  night." 

John  was  becoming  impatient.  He  was  not  getting 
the  amusement  he  had  anticipated.  He  had  expected 
to  have  an  encounter  with  Norah.  It  would  have  done 
his  savage  heart  good  to  see  the  anger  change  to  en- 
treaty in  her  eyes,  and  to  be  able  to  trample  on  her 


VISITING   THE   SIN  295 

feelings  with  the  rough  brutality  that  was  a  part  of  his 
very  nature.  There  was  no  entreaty  in  this  little 
woman's  eyes. 

"Come  on,"  he  repeated.  "Three  of  ye  ketch  hold 
of  the  head.  We-uns  '11  take  the  foot  o'  the  bed." 

It  was  noticeable  that  the  position  of  danger,  where 
there  was  most  chance  of  coming  in  contact  with  the 
patient,  was  assigned  to  his  companions.  John  Kissel- 
baugh  walked  to  the  foot  of  the  bed.  He  handled  it 
cautiously.  The  object  of  the  visitors  was  evidently  to 
carry  the  sick  man  away  on  the  bed  as  he  lay. 

Mrs.  Felps  moved  forward  as  the  men  advanced,  and, 
purposely  or  not,  stood  between  the  light  and  the  bed. 
The  face  of  the  patient,  half  covered  by  the  wet  towel, 
was  in  shadow.  As  the  men  came  nearer,  another  groan 
burst  from  the  lips  that  were  almost  buried  in  the  pil- 
low. Then  an  arm,  showing  a  man's  coat-sleeve,  was 
thrown  outside  the  bed-clothes. 

"Lay  still,  cain't  ye,"  muttered  the  man  nearest  to 
that  moving  arm.  "  I  hain't  goin'  to  hev  you-u  touch 
me." 

Instantly,  as  if  in  answer,  the  arm  moved  again,  and 
a  hand  for  a  moment  grasped  his  with  feverish  touch. 
He  started  back  with  a  yell. 

"  Here,  hurry,  and  let's  git  hit  over,"  he  shouted.  "  I 
hain't  aimin'  to  ketch  hit.  He's  plumb  crazy." 

"He's  been  that  away  for  a  day  or  two  naow,"  said 
Mrs.  Felps  quietly.  "Better  leave  him  to  us  women. 
We-uns  hain't  scart." 

A  savage  oath  was  the  answer.  The  six  men  settled 
to  their  task.  As  they  lifted  the  bed,  the  little  woman 
slipped  in  front  of  them  and  passed  into  the  outer  room. 
When  they  came  through,  the  front  door  was  open,  and 
the  light  extinguished. 

"Thar's  a  plumb  fresh  wind  blowin',"  she  said. 
"  Hit's  too  much  for  a  body's  lamp.  You-uns  have  got 
a  lantern  though." 


296  VISITING   THE   SIN 

They  came  out  into  the  darkness.  The  night  was 
very  heavy.  It  took  some  moments  to  hoist  their  bur- 
den into  the  wagon.  Mrs.  Felps  stood  by.  When  the 
bed  was  in  position,  she  came  alongside. 

"Here,  let  me  make  him  comfortable,"  she  said.  "/ 
hain't  afraid  to  touch  him." 

She  smoothed  the  bed-clothes,  and  put  her  hand 
gently  on  the  flushed  face. 

"  I'll  be  atter  you  in  a  flash,  honey." 

The  words  reached  none  but  the  ear  for  which  they 
were  intended. 

The  restless  hand  of  the  patient  came  suddenly  out 
from  beneath  the  coverlet,  and  closed  over  the  little 
woman's. 

"  No,  no !  Stay  with  him !  They  cain't  hurt  me.  I 
hain't  afraid.  Promise ! " 

The  hand  held  her  fast. 

"All  right,"  she  said,  "I'll  look  atter  him."  And  the 
arm  tossed  restlessly  again. 

Then  the  little  woman  stepped  back. 

"  You-all  are  duin'  a  wrong  thing,  and  you  know  hit," 
she  said.  "  But  thar  hain't  no  stoppin'  ye.  You've  got 
to  answer  for  hit  though.  Don't  be  forgittin'  tha-at." 

"Gitap!" 

John  was  by  the  heads  of  the  mules.  His  whip 
swished  through  the  air,  and  came  down.  The  animals 
jumped,  and  sprang  forward.  Then  the  wagon  moved 
off.  There  was  no  more  shouting.  An  oath  from  John 
Kisselbagh  as  the  mules  stumbled  in  the  darkness  was 
the  only  sound  that  broke  the  silence.  Nobody  felt 
like  joking  now,  and  nobody  felt  like  riding.  There 
was  not  a  man  among  them  tired  enough  to  prefer  a 
seat  in  that  wagon  to  using  his  own  legs. 

When  Mrs.  Felps  returned  to  the  cottage,  her  first  act 
was  to  open  the  door  of  the  inner  room  and  look  in  on 
Marshall  Rutherford.  He  was  sleeping  quietly.  The 


VISITING  THE   SIN  297 

mother's  heart  was  troubled.  Something  very  like  fear 
was  tugging  at  it  as  she  thought  of  Norah  out  there  in 
the  wagon.  She  was  sure  that,  with  the  exception  of 
John  Kisselbaugh,  there  was  not  a  man  among  them  all 
who  would  do  the  girl  harm ;  and  Wash,  sober  or  not 
sober,  would  give  his  life  for  her  any  day.  She  was 
not  even  afraid  that  they  would  wreak  their  vengeance 
on  her  if  by  any  accident  they  should  discover  that  the 
small-pox  patient  they  were  so  laboriously  carrying  away 
was  Norah  Felps.  They  would  be  much  more  likely  to 
stand  abashed,  ashamed  that  the  girl  should  witness 
their  unmanly  deed. 

Her  fear  lay  in  another  direction, —  in  the  direction  of 
violence  offered,  not  to  the  girl  Norah,  but  to  the  man, 
Marshall  Rutherford.  The  visitors  had  gone  away  con- 
vinced that  they  were  taking  with  them  the  nephew  of 
Kennedy  Poteet.  Whatever  fate  was  destined  for  the 
sick  man  would  fall  to  Norah' s  lot.  Would  they  do  the 
girl  injury  before  they  discovered  that  their  intended 
victim  was  not  in  their  hands  ? 

"  She'll  not  tell,  no  matter  what  they  du,"  said  the 
mother.  "  I  hain't  blamin'  her.  When  a  girl's  heart's 
in  hit,  thar  hain't  much  she'll  stick  at.  But  hit  hain't 
ri-ight  to  leave  her.  And  yit  thar's  sense  in  what  she 
said  abaout  leavin'  Marshall.  Hit  hain't  safe.  I'm 
goin'  to  risk  hit  for  a  lee-tie,  though.  I  cain't  sit  still  a 
minute  longer.  I'm  goin'  to  fetch  Abner." 

The  little  woman  had  not  been  sitting  still.  She  had 
wandered  from  one  room  to  the  other,  now  putting  things 
in  order  around  her  patient,  now  clearing  the  room  that 
had  been  hastily  disarranged.  Half  an  hour  had  passed 
since  the  sound  of  the  wagon  wheels  died  away.  Mrs. 
Felps  could  no  longer  bear  the  strain  of  inaction.  She 
took  a  last  anxious  look  at  Marshall,  extinguished  the 
lamp,  and  went  out  of  the  cottage,  locking  the  door 
behind  her. 


298  VISITING   THE   SIN 


CHAPTER   XX 

IT  would  not  be  true  to  say  that  there  was  any  sensa- 
tion akin  to  fear  in  Norah' s  heart  as  she  felt  the 
wagon  begin  to  move  across  the  uneven  ground. 
She  was  too  much  excited  to  be  afraid.  There  was  a 
little  amusement  mingled  with  her  anger  against  these 
men.  They  were  taking  an  immense  amount  of  trouble 
to  carry  away  a  girl  who  was  not  for  a  moment  in  their 
thoughts.  That  is  to  say,  she  was  not  in  the  thought  of 
the  majority  of  them.  Norah  knew  well  that  she  was 
always  in  Wash  Forehand's  thoughts ;  and  as  for  John 
Kisselbaugh,  she  was  surely  in  the  forefront  of  his 
anticipations  to-night.  She  laughed  quietly  at  the  man- 
ner in  which  his  triumph  had  been  turned  into  absurdity. 
It  was  not  Norah  Felps  who  would  stand  as  the  van- 
quished party  when  this  night's  performance  became 
public  property. 

For  a  long  time  she  lay  very  quiet,  only  now  and  then 
lifting  her  head  to  discover  which  way  the  mules  were 
going.  This  was  not  an  easy  matter,  for  the  night  was 
dark.  The  difference  of  motion  told  her  when  the 
wagon  left  the  rough  track  for  the  high  road,  and  she 
guessed,  rather  than  saw,  that  in  a  few  minutes  it  had 
turned  across  towards  the  Ridges. 

Hitherto  only  a  few  words  had  passed  between  the 
men.  With  the  exception  of  John  Kisselbaugh,  who 
was  guiding  the  mules,  they  kept  at  a  respectful  dis- 
tance from  the  wagon.  Norah  smiled  again  as  she 
realized  that  she  was  little  likely  to  be  molested  by  any 
one  of  them. 

John's   voice  broke   the   silence   frequently.     Oaths 


VISITING   THE   SIN  299 

dropped  from  his  lips  with  extraordinary  facility.  John 
needed  an  outlet  for  his  ire,  and  he  found  it  in  his  treat- 
ment of  the  mules.  More  than  once  Norah  was  almost 
thrown  from  the  wagon  as  the  animals  jumped  beneath 
the  heavy  lash  and  brought  the  wheels  over  some  great 
stone  high  enough  to  tilt  the  wagon  almost  on  its  side. 
It  was  after  one  such  dangerous  jolt,  when  the  girl  had 
been  forced  to  cling  to  the  wagon-box  to  avoid  being 
tipped  out,  that  she  received  her  first  hint  of  the  desti- 
nation of  the  party.  She  was  dragging  herself  and  the 
bed  into  position  again,  when  she  heard  one  of  the  men 
speak. 

"  Got  your  hospital  all  fixed  up,  Wash  ? " 

A  grunt  was  the  only  answer. 

"  Coin'  to  drive  right  inter  the  cave  ? " 

"  I  reckon.     Thar's  room  to  turn." 

"  Aimin'  to  keep  your  patient  plumb  at  the  opening 
or  give  him  a  private  apartment  whar  he  can  make  up 
his  mind  comfortable-like  whether  he'll  rid  Big  Creek 
Gap  of  his  presence  right  away  by  skippin'  inter  the 
land  o'  shadders  or  wait  till  he  gits  on  his  feet  agin,  and 
gives  us  the  trouble  o'  he'pin'  him  aout  o'  the  valley  ? 
He  won't  be  much  more'  nashadder  ary  way,  I  reckon." 

"  I  calc'lated  he'd  be  better  at  the  furder  end  o'  the 
cave,"  replied  Wash,  speaking  in  a  voice  that  in  spite  of 
its  thickness  conveyed  to  Norah' s  brain  the  impression 
of  constraint.  "I'm  aimin'  to  make  him  tol'rable  com- 
fortable. I've  dragged  a  heap  o'  boxes  daown  thar,  and 
sot  'em  together  so's  his  bed  won't  hev  to  lay  on  the 
ground.  Hit's  as  much  as  he  can  expect,"  he  added 
argumentatively.  "He  don't  belong  to  Big  Creek  ary 
way,  and  he  hain't  no  right  to  put  us  and  ourn  in  danger. 
Thar's  John  now,  got  young  uns  of  his  own.  Hit  hain't 
ri-ight  that  they  should  suffer  for  hi-im." 

"  They  hain't  goin'  to  suffer,"  said  John  with  an  oath. 
"We-uns  are  goin'  to  take  care  o'  that.  Hit's  your 


300  VISITING  THE   SIN 

undertaking  Wash,  and  you'll  hev  to  run  what  risk  thar 
is  in  luekin'  atter  him.  Hit  hain't  much.  You've  got 
to  see  he  has  somethin'  to  eat ;  and  if  he  cain't  eat  hit, 
that  hain't  nothin'  to  nobody.  You'll  provide  him  with 
guede  victuals  while  he  hangs  on,  and  when  he  takes 
himself  off  we'll  bury  him  decent,  right  thar  in  the  cave, 
and  nobody  won't  be  a  bit  the  worse.  Hit's  more'n  ary 
man  of  the  stock  of  Kennedy  Poteet  deserves." 

"  I  reckon,"  was  the  unanimous  answer. 

"So  that's  the  game,  is  hit?"  said  Norah.  "Very 
gue-ude.  We'll  trouble  you-uns  to  feed  your  patient  as 
long  as  you  li-ike,  but  not  to  bury  him,  nor  to  he'p  him 
aout  of  Big  Creek  Gap." 

The  blood  flamed  across  the  cheeks  that  had  been 
hastily  smeared  with  the  red  clay  of  the  district.  The 
girl's  heart  was  beating  wildly.  So  this  was  the  treat- 
ment they  would  give  a  sick  and  almost  dying  man.  A 
resting-place  in  a  damp  cave,  and  a  grave  beneath  its 
floor,  was  the  best  Marshall  Lane  Rutherford  could  hope 
for  from  a  village  that  had  no  word  to  say  against  him 
save  that  he  was  the  nephew  of  Kennedy  Poteet,  and 
that  he  had  come  to  a  time  of  sore  need.  What  wrong 
had  he  ever  done  man  or  woman  among  them  that 
they  — 

Suddenly  across  the  train  of  thought  darted  a  new 
idea.  The  head  in  the  wagon  was  lifted,  and  the  eyes 
fairly  blazed.  It  was  well  nobody  was  looking  that  way, 
or  he  would  surely  have  seen  through  the  darkness  the 
angry  gleam  of  those  eyes. 

"  Thar's  nary  doubt  of  hit ! "  muttered  the  girl  aloud. 
"Hit's  plumb  true!  Hit's  Wash!  John  Kisselbaugh 
hain't  at  the  bottom  of  this  at  all.  Hit's  hi-im.  He's 
done  planned  hit  all,  and  the  others  are  jist  he'pin'  him. 
Hit  hain't  John  that's  the  brute  :  hit's  Wash.  And  hit's 
Wash  that's  got  to  come  with  the  victuals,"  she  added 
significantly. 


VISITING   THE    SIN  301 

She  understood  now,  and  she  did  not  ask  again  what 
harm  Marshall  Rutherford  had  done.  The  men's  pro- 
ceedings took  on  a  new  significance  for  her. 

Her  thoughts  moved  fast.  There  was  much  in  what 
she  had  heard  to  quicken  their  activity.  She  was  already 
turning  the  information  to  account.  The  plans  of  the 
men  did  not  suit  her  ill.  A  lodging  in  a  cave,  and  an 
occasional  visit  from  Wash  for  the  purpose  of  bringing 
food,  presented  a  less  formidable  conclusion  to  this 
night's  violence  than  any  which  she  had  anticipated.  It 
would  even  be  possible  to  keep  up  the  delusion  for  a  few 
days,  and  let  these  men  believe  that  Marshall  Lane 
Rutherford  was  really  in  their  clutches.  She  did  not  fear 
close  inspection  in  the  dark  recesses  of  a  cave.  She  had 
feared  being  taken  beyond  the  limits  of  Big  Creek 
Gap,  and  left  in  some  barn  or  house  where  her  identity 
might  be  at  once  discovered.  This  variation  of  the  pro- 
gramme pleased  her  well.  She  gave  a  short,  angry 
laugh,  and  smothered  it  in  a  groan. 

"  Hit' d  be  a  pi-ity  not  to  let  'em  carry  aout  their  good 
intentions,"  she  muttered.  "Thar  '11  be  he-eaps  of 
chances  for  Wash  to  bring  the  victuals  afore  /  tell  him 
to  sto-op." 

The  girl  saw  safety  for  Marshall  in  the  scheme  she 
would  help  these  men  to  carry  out.  The  next  few  days 
were  critical  ones  for  him.  His  presence  in  the  house 
could  easily  be  hidden,  for  few  were  likely  to  court  in- 
fection by  coming  near.  As  for  herself,  she  would  be  in 
the  cave  when  Wash  made  his  visits.  A  peculiar  smile 
crossed  her  face  as  she  promised  herself  that  these  would 
not  be  very  frequent. 

"  He  won't  be  comin'  more  'n  once  a  day.  He  won't 
be  wantin*  to  come,"  she  said  significantly. 

There  would  be  no  necessity  on  any  day  for  her  to 
stay  in  the  cave  later  than  the  time  when  Wash  left  it. 
His  visit  over,  she  would  be  free  to  return  to  her  mother 
and  Marshall. 


302  VISITING   THE    SIN 

"Hit's  a  tol'rable  good  plan,"  she  said.  "Hit's  a 
sight  better  than  jist  gittin  'em  away  for  one  night.  Of 
course  thar's  Abner, —  he'd  'a  fought  like  a  tiger  for 
Marshall, —  and  thar's  others  would  'a  come  to  he'p. 
We'd  'a  got  'em  to-morrer.  But  hit  hain't  the  best  plan 
to  hev  fightin'.  Thar's  better  ways." 

Her  mind  was  made  up  to  let  the  men  carry  their 
undertaking  through  to  the  end.  The  intermediate 
stages  would  afford  some  amusement,  for  there  were  the 
visits  of  Wash  to  be  met,  and  rendered  interesting  —  to 
the  philanthropic  visitor.  As  for  the  climax,  the  thought 
of  it  would  cheer  many  an  hour  spent  in  waiting  within 
the  cave. 

The  girl  lifted  her  head  again.  As  far  as  she  could 
guess,  she  was  about  two  miles  from  home.  The  wagon 
had  been  travelling  over  a  rough  cart-track,  but  now  the 
change  of  movement  told  her  there  was  grass  beneath 
the  wheels.  While  she  strained  her  eyes  to  distinguish 
the  surroundings,  the  wagon  stopped  with  a  jerk.  The 
men  drew  together  to  consult,  and  the  light  of  the  three 
lanterns  for  a  moment  revealed  the  mouth  of  a  cave. 

Norah  knew  where  she  was  now,  and  she  knew  the 
cave.  That  is  to  say,  she  was  fairly  well  acquainted 
with  its  outer  passages,  and  had  penetrated  into  more 
than  one  chamber  far  back  in  the  darkness.  A  thorough 
knowledge  of  it  she  did  not  possess,  though  she  had 
often  entered  it  in  company  with  the  boys  and  girls  of 
Big  Creek  Gap.  It  was  damp  and  cold,  the  more  re- 
mote parts  still  obstructed  by  the  stream  that  had  once 
flowed  in  greater  volume  through  it.  The  thought  of 
bringing  a  sick  man  into  such  a  place  filled  her  with  in- 
dignant horror.  She  alternately  congratulated  herself 
on  having  averted  the  catastrophe  and  glared  at  Wash 
Forehand,  who  stood  swinging  one  of  the  lanterns  and 
talking  in  a  tone  too  low  to  reach  her  ears. 

"Wait  a  bit,  Wa-ash, —  wait  a  bi-it,"  she  said.  "We 
hain't  plumb  through  this  business  yit." 


VISITING  THE   SIN  303 

She  saw  Wash  take  a  bottle  from  his  pocket,  and  put 
it  to  his  lips.  Then  he  passed  it  round.  The  under- 
taking was  one  that  called  for  the  fortifying  of  courage. 
When  John  Kisselbaugh  withdrew  his  lips  from  the 
fiery  liquid,  he  returned  to  the  heads  of  the  mules. 

"  Git  ap ! "  he  shouted  savagely. 

The  animals  started  with  a  jump.  Wash  went  ahead 
with  one  of  the  lanterns,  the  others  serving  for  the  rest 
of  the  party. 

"He's  hurryin'  to  git  his  boxes  fixed,"  said  the  girl, 
watching  the  light  as  far  as  she  could  see  it. 

The  angry  laugh  had  not  died  out  of  her  eyes  or  gone 
from  about  her  mouth.  She  was  thinking  of  Wash,  of 
the  visits  he  would  make  to  the  cave,  and  of  the  crown- 
ing reward  of  his  philanthropy  when  he  should  learn 
that  the  small-pox  patient  whom  he  had  lodged  on  a 
bedstead  of  boxes  in  a  damp  cave  was  the  girl  he  would 
have  given  the  world  to  propitiate.  The  thought  of 
that  overwhelming  climax  afforded  her  so  much  diver- 
sion that  she  turned  from  it  with  regret,  to  meet  the 
more  pressing  experience  of  descending  the  slippery 
rocks  within  the  mouth  of  the  cave.  The  opening  was 
wide ;  and  the  mules  went  sliding  down  the  steep  incline, 
to  draw  up  on  the  level  with  a  jerk. 

"  Drive  plumb  across,  John.  You  can  turn,  and  back 
up  that  away.  That's  the  prong  where  Wash  has  got 
his  hospital." 

There  was  a  weak  attempt  at  laughter,  some  shout- 
ing, and  more  swearing ;  and  then  the  mules  were 
brought  round,  and  the  wagon  backed  into  an  opening 
that  narrowed  a  few  yards  beyond. 

"  Tumble  him  aout ! "  said  John  brutally.  "  I've  done 
my  part,  and  you  don't  ketch  me  touchin'  him  agin. 
You-uns  may  git  him  in  furder,  or  leave  him  thar,  for 
all  me." 

"  Haul  your  boxes  this  away,  Wash,"  shouted  one  of 


304  VISITING   THE    SIN 

the  men.  "  We-uns  hain't  powerful  eager  to  carry  him 
back  thar." 

There  was  no  answer.     Wash  was  out  of  hearing. 

"  Does  the  fool  think  we're  goin'  to  the  end  of  crea- 
tion with  sich  a  burden  as  thi-is  ? "  exclaimed  another 
angrily.  "  Wa-ash  !  Wash  Fore-hand !  " 

The  low  walls  sent  back  the  sound,  and  a  groan  from 
the  patient  added  to  the  weird  effect. 

"  Tumble  him  aout,  and  leave  Wash  to  fix  him  to  his 
likin'/'  said  John.  "  Hit's  his  look  aout :  hit  hain't 
we-uns'." 

"  Wa-ash  !     Whar  are  ye,  you  fool  ? " 

This  time  the  call  provoked  an  answer. 

"  Come  on ! "  shouted  Wash,  his  voice  sounding 
faintly  through  the  long  stretch  of  rock  passage. 

"  Come  on  yourself.     We-all  hain't  comin'  in  thar." 

The  light  of  the  lantern  appeared  as  a  glimmering 
star  in  the  blackness. 

"  Hit's  all  ready,"  replied  Wash,  in  a  voice  that  had 
grown  more  perceptibly  thick  and  unsteady. 

"  Haul  your  boxes  up  to  this  end." 

"Icain't." 

The  tone  was  positive. 

"How  fur  is  hit?" 

"  Not  a  great  ways." 

Grumbling  was  loud  as  the  men  advanced  to  the 
wagon.  This  night  exploit  was  evidently  not  altogether 
to  their  taste.  John  Kisselbaugh  found  it  necessary  to 
remain  with  the  mules. 

The  long  passage  they  entered  narrowed  as  they 
proceeded.  Towards  the  end  there  was  barely  enough 
room  for  the  men  to  pass  through  with  their  burden. 
Once  the  bed  scraped  against  the  sides,  and  the  bearers 
found  themselves  obliged  to  stoop. 

"  Be  a  plumb  good  place  to  bury  him  in,"  remarked 
one  of  them  facetiously. 


VISITING   THE    SIN  305 

Twenty  yards  beyond  the  narrow  part  the  passage 
widened  out,  and  the  stone  floor  was  comparatively  dry. 
Here,  in  the  open  space  back  from  the  passage,  Wash 
had  arranged  his  boxes. 

"  That'll  be  a  tol'rable  good  place  to  put  him  in,"  he 
said  thickly. 

"  We  hain't  carin'  whar  we  put  him,  so  long  as  we 
git  rid  of  him,"  was  the  answer. 

Norah  had  lain  very  quiet  during  the  transit  from  the 
wagon  to  the  extremity  of  the  passage.  She  was  will- 
ing to  allow  the  task  to  be  completed  as  speedily  as 
possible.  The  sooner  it  was  accomplished,  the  sooner 
she  would  be  at  liberty  to  return  to  the  cottage.  Not 
one  of  the  party  but  had  taken  too  much  whisky  to 
attempt  another  visit  to  the  cave  to-night. 

"  Thar,  that's  done !  And  a  powerful  guede  thing 
for  Big  Creek  Gap.  A  feller  like  that's  best  aout  o* 
the  way.  The  rest's  your  look  aout,  Wash." 

The  speaker  straightened  himself,  and  stood  back 
with  a  sigh  of  relief.  The  patient  moaned,  and  threw 
up  one  arm.  The  movement  had  the  effect  of 
hastening  the  departure  of  the  bearers  from  the  imme- 
diate vicinity  of  the  bed.  One  man  alone  stood  his 
ground. 

The  scene  in  that  dark  cave  was  eerie  enough  to  fix 
itself  in  the  memories  of  those  who  were  present.  The 
heavy  figures  of  the  men  stood  out  of  the  darkness 
against  the  whiteness  of  the  bed-clothes,  and  the  rock 
walls  shone  damp  where  they  caught  the  glare  of  the 
lantern.  The  wild  eyes  of  the  patient  travelled  from 
one  face  to  another  with  a  stare  that  was  disconcerting, 
and  ended  by  fixing  themselves  on  that  of  Wash  Fore- 
hand. He  moved  nearer  to  the  bed,  a  little  unsteady 
on  his  feet  and  uncertain  in  his  general  movements. 

"All  right.  Go  ahead,"  he  said.  "I'm  jist  goin'  to 
stop  to  put  some  victuals  near  him.  He  shain't  say 


306  VISITING  THE   SIN 

thar  was  nothin'  to  eat,  if  so  be  he  should  feel  like 
hevin'  a  snack." 

A  bottle  of  milk  and  the  remains  of  the  whisky  were 
drawn  laboriously  from  the  speaker's  pocket  and  placed 
near  the  bed.  A  hunch  of  corn  bread  followed,  and 
then  the  young  man  stood  for  a  moment  in  silence. 

"  Come  on,  Wash.  We  hain't  aimin'  to  stay  here  all 
night." 

They  were  already  moving  off. 

"All  right.  I'm  coming,"  was  the  answer ;  but  Wash 
did  not  stir. 

His  hands  were  clenched,  and  his  lips  moved  excitedly, 
though  no  sound  came  from  them.  He  waited  until  the 
footsteps  grew  distant,  and  the  light  of  the  lantern 
could  no  longer  be  seen.  Then  quickly,  as  if  action 
and  words  were  forced  from  him,  Wash  leant  over  the 
bed. 

"  You  thought  you'd  git  the  best  of  me,  didn't  you  ?  " 
he  said,  in  a  low,  hoarse  voice.  "  You're  aimin'  to  git 
well  and  lay  claim  to  her,  but  you  hain't  goin'  to  hev 
her.  /  know  well  enough  she'll  never  hev  me  naow. 
She  might,  if  your  cursed  face  hadn't  never  come 
between  us.  She  won't  now.  But  she  hain't  for  you. 
I'll  fix  you-u!" 

The  last  words  came  through  his  set  teeth.  A 
moment  later  he  lifted  his  head  and  swung  his  light  into 
the  passage  down  which  the  others  had  disappeared. 

The  passion  and  hate  in  the  action  and  the  words  for 
an  instant  stunned  the  girl.  They  revealed  to  her  the 
reality  of  the  danger  that  threatened  Marshall  Lane 
Rutherford.  For  a  time  her  anger  against  Wash  was 
swallowed  up  in  fear.  Such  passion  as  this  was  not 
altogether  a  thing  to  be  laughed  at.  It  was  a  real  peril, 
to  be  acknowledged  and  met  squarely. 

It  was  of  no  possible  harm  to  herself  that  Norah  was 
thinking.  Her  fears  were  all  for  Marshall.  They 


VISITING  THE   SIN  307 

made  her  cautious.  She  determined  to  remain  still  until 
all  likelihood  of  Wash  Forehand's  return  was  at  an  end. 
The  footsteps  of  the  men  could  no  longer  be  heard,  but 
those  of  Wash  were  loud.  What  was  he  lingering  for  ? 

She  sat  up,  and  strained  her  eyes  to  see  into  the 
blackness.  It  was  no  use.  The  lantern  had  gone 
beyond  the  first  turn,  and  the  passage  was  dark  as 
death. 

"  Wait  a  bit,"  said  the  girl  softly.  "  I  hain't  come 
here  without  the  means  of  gittin*  a  light." 

All  was  still  in  the  cave.  The  men  must  before  this 
have  reached  the  opening.  Norah  was  wondering 
whether  Wash  had  joined  them,  when  there  came  a 
heavy,  booming  sound,  and  the  noise  of  falling  rock. 
She  started  up  in  alarm.  The  sounds  were  very  close. 

"  He's  done  blowed  the  passage  up  ! " 

A  horror  fell  upon  her, —  horror  of  the  deed  rather 
than  of  the  danger.  She  remembered  the  low,  narrow 
passage  through  which  she  had  passed  a  few  minutes 
ago.  It  would  be  easy  to  block  up  that  opening  with 
debris,  so  that  a  sick  man  would  be  virtually  buried  alive. 

"He's  done  hit, —  the  murderer  !  " 

Even  then  she  was  not  afraid  for  herself.  She  was 
still  thinking  of  Marshall. 

She  could  hear  nothing  now  but  the  occasional  fall  of 
a  loose  bit  of  rock.  The  passage  was  too  securely 
blocked  for  sounds  easily  to  make  their  way  through. 
For  a  full  minute  she  sat  perfectly  still,  listening  and 
thinking.  Then,  as  with  a  flash  of  light,  the  knowledge 
of  the  danger  dawned  upon  her. 

"I'm  plumb  blocked  in,  and  mammy  don't  know  which 
away  we  come  ! " 

Her  face  grew  white  beneath  its  smearing  of  clay. 
To  sit  still  longer  was  an  impossibility.  She  felt  choked, 
—  oppressed  with  the  darkness,  and  this  sensation  of 
being  buried  alive.  She  wanted  to  scream,  to  call  out 


308  VISITING   THE    SIN 

to  Wash  to  come  back  and  remove  that  mass  of  rock 
which,  she  was  sure,  was  barring  the  way.  She  would 
have  done  it,  but  like  a  hand  laid  upon  her  lips  came  the 
thought  of  the  passion  in  Wash  Forehand's  face.  It 
was  for  Marshall  he  had  planned  the  fate  that  had  fallen 
upon  her.  To  let  him  know  that  he  had  been  tricked 
would  be  to  court  fresh  revenge  against  his  rival. 

"  He  shain't  know.     Hit  hain't  safe,"  she  said. 

But  she  must  do  something,  and  at  once,  if  only  to 
free  herself  from  the  horror  that  had  fallen  upon  her. 
It  was  possible  that  the  outlet  was  not  too  completely 
obstructed  to  allow  of  passage  through  it.  She  struck 
a  match  and  lit  one  of  the  candles  she  had  brought. 
Then,  carrying  it  carefully,  since  she  had  no  lantern  to 
put  it  in,  she  went  out  to  the  passage.  The  scene  of 
the  explosion  was  only  a  short  distance  away.  When 
she  had  examined  the  great  fallen  masses  of  rock,  she 
realised  more  fully  than  before  the  passion  that  had 
driven  Wash  Forehand  to  make  the  deep  drills  which 
had  been  necessary  to  produce  such  a  catastrophe. 

"He's  done  gone  plumb  crazy,"  she  said. 

She  gave  up  all  hope  of  removing  those  stones.  It 
would  have  taken  strong  men,  with  picks  and  shovels,  to 
clear  away  that  obstruction,  so  that  she  might  creep 
through.  With  only  her  own  hands  to  help  her  the 
thing  was  an  impossibility.  Norah  felt  the  damp  heat 
come  out  on  her  face.  She  was  trembling.  She  put 
her  hand  to  her  forehead  and  felt  the  drops  of  perspira- 
tion. Then  she  drew  herself  up  sharply. 

"Lor!  Norah  Felps,"  she  said  aloud,  "you  hain't 
come  to  your  last  gasp  yit !  Mammy's  thar.  She'll 
find  you.  Mammy  hain't  no  fool." 

She  went  back  to  the  wider  part  of  the  cave,  and 
began  to  examine  it.  It  had  no  outlet,  but  through  the 
wall  at  one  end  flowed  a  considerable  stream  of  water. 

"  Whar  does  that  git  away  ?  "  questioned  the  girl. 


VISITING   THE    SIN  309 

She  followed  it  as  it  crossed  a  corner  of  the  chamber, 
and  then  disappeared  beneath  the  opposite  wall  of  rock. 

"  Hit  must  run  clar  through  into  another  prong,"  she 
said. 

She  stooped,  and  put  her  arm  into  the  water.  It 
came  high  above  her  elbow.  She  could  not  reach  to 
the  bottom. 

"  Hit's  a  deep  hole,"  she  said,  and  turned  away  with  a 
sigh. 

Then  she  stood  still  to  think. 

"I'd  like  tol'rable  well  to  git  aout  of  here  afore 
mammy  raises  a  row,"  she  said.  "  Hit'd  be  a  sight 
better  that  Wash  shouldn't  know  note  abaout  hit." 

But  the  minutes  wore  on,  and  she  was  no  nearer  find- 
ing a  way.  The  atmosphere  in  the  cave  became  oppres- 
sive. There  was  no  longer  open  communication  with 
the  outside  air.  The  girl  looked  at  the  candle. 

"  Thar  hain't  enough  for  you  and  me,"  she  said,  and 
blew  it  out. 

Then  she  groped  her  way  back  to  the  bed,  and  sat 
down  in  the  darkness. 


3io  VISITING   THE   SIN 


CHAPTER  XXI 

"     A  B !     Ab   Poteet !     Open  your  door   right   away, 

l\   and  let  me  in  !  " 

JL  -Lr  Mrs.  Felps  was  breathless.  She  stood  by 
Abner's  door,  panting.  She  had  run  every  step  of  the 
way  from  her  own  house  to  his, —  run  as  she  never  could 
have  run  if  her  feet  had  not  been  urged  on  by  the 
mingled  feeling  of  fear  for  Marshall  and  anxiety  about 
Norah. 

Abner  heard  her  voice,  and  was  quickly  at  the  door. 

"What  is  hit?  Is  he  worse?"  he  cried,  as  he  threw 
it  open  wide. 

"Hit  hain't  Marshall  —  hit's  Norah!"  gasped  the 
little  woman. 

He  staggered  as  if  he  had  been  struck. 

"Hit  hain't  touched  her?  The  curse  hain't  lighted 
on  her?" 

His  voice  was  hoarse  and  appealing. 

"Lor!  man,  don't  lueke  like  that,"  said  Mrs.  Felps 
breathlessly.  "Hit  hain't  no  curse,  unless  hit's  the 
curse  of  evil  men.  They're  curse  enough  anywhars. 
Hit's  John  Kisselbaugh,  and  Wash  Forehand,  and  a  lot 
more, —  all  on  'em  drunk.  They've  done  carried  her  off, 
and  I  don't  know  whar  they've  tuk  her.  Mercy  alive, 
I'm  clean  done  aout ! " 

"  Carried  her  off  ?     Norah  ?  " 

To  all  appearance  it  would  have  been  more  than  any 
man's  life  was  worth  to  touch  her  with  his  little  finger 
if  Abner  were  present.  Mrs.  Felps  looked  at  his  face, 
and  an  odd  little  smile  played  about  her  mouth.  She 
sank  into  a  chair,  and  held  her  hand  to  her  heart.  She 
had  come  very  fast. 


VISITING  THE   SIN  311 

"  Hit's  this  away,  Ab,"  she  said,  after  a  minute's  si- 
lence. "They  aimed  to  take  Marshall, —  carry  him 
away  somewhars.  They  said  he  was  puttin'  they-uns 
in  danger,  and  that  sort  o'  talk.  And  Norah  hadn't  no 
mind  to  let  'em  hev  their  way.  So  she  jist  humped 
round,  and  got  Marshall  into  another  rueme,  and  got 
into  his  bed,  and  tricked  'em  into  thinkin'  she  was  the 
sick  man.  They  was  that  drunk  they  didn't  know  her 
from  Marshall.  And  they  tuk  her  off." 

"Tuk  Norah  off?     Whar?" 

Abner's  voice  rolled  like  thunder. 

"That's  jist  what  I  want  you  to  find  aout,"  said  the 
little  woman.  "She  wouldn't  let  me  foller.  'Thar's 
Marshall  to  see  to,'  she  said,  and  she  was  that  set  on 
my  takin'  care  o'  him  that  I  had  to  go  back  to  the 
house,  and  leave  them  to  carry  her  whar  they  liked." 

"  How  long  ago  was  hit  ?  "  asked  Abner,  his  eyes  shin- 
ing, and  his  face  working. 

"  Half  an  hour  afore  I  set  aout,"  she  replied.  "  I've 
come  mighty  quick.  You'd  better  foller  'em,  Ab.  They 
started  to  go  to  the  road.  I  hain't  no  knowledge  whar 
they  went  atter  that.  I  was  scart  to  leave  Marshall. 
I'm  goin'  back  this  blessed  minute." 

"  Had  they-uns  a  team  ? "  asked  Abner. 

«  Yes  —  John's." 

"  I'll  be  atter  ye  in  a  minute,"  he  said ;  for  she  was 
already  at  the  door. 

She  had  barely  gone  a  hundred  yards  before  he  was 
by  her  side.  He  carried  a  lantern  and  a  heavy  axe. 

"What's  that  for?"  asked  Mrs.  Felps. 

She  was  not  referring  to  the  lantern,  and  he  knew  it. 

"  Hit'll  du  to  break  a  head  or  two  with,"  he  said 
grimly. 

"Lueke  a-here,  Ab,"  said  Mrs.  Felps  quietly:  "this 
hain't  no  time  for  bloodshed.  They  won't  hurt  he-er. 
They  hain't  aimin'  to  hurt  he-er.  Hit's  hi-i 'm.  But 


3i2  VISITING   THE   SIN 

thar  might  come  harm  to  her  all  the  same,  though  they 
hain't  aimin'  to  du  hit ;  and  I  want  you  to  go  and  find 
her.  But  you  don't  want  to  use  that  thar.  You  hain't 
goin'  to  fight." 

" You're  right,"  he  said  slowly,  "/hain't  no  call  to 
shed  blood.  Thar's  been  enough  shed.  But  if  they've 
hurt  a  hair  of  he-er  head  "  — 

"  They  hain't,  Ab  —  they  hain't,"  said  the  little  woman. 
"Thar  hain't  none  on  'em,  'thout  hit's  John  Kisselbaugh, 
that  would  touch  her  if  he  knew.  But  hit  hain't  safe  to 
let  the  time  go  on,  and  we  not  knowin'  whar  she  is. 
Now  we'll  run.  I'm  tol'rable  rested." 

They  did  run,  but  Abner  was  first  at  the  cottage. 

"  Give  me  the  key,"  he  said  when  they  started.  "  I'll 
go  and  see  he's  all  right." 

He  had  been  in  to  look  at  Marshall,  and  was  examin- 
ing the  tracks  of  the  wheels  by  the  light  of  his  lantern 
when  Mrs.  Felps  came  up. 

"  I'll  foller  'em  to  the  road,"  he  said.  "  Hit  hain't 
hard  to  see  'em.  The  ground's  tol'rable  soft." 

She  noticed  that  he  still  carried  the  axe. 

"  Goin'  to  take  that  ? "  she  asked. 

"Yes.  Hit  might  be  useful,"  he  said.  "I  hain't 
goin'  to  hurt  nobody,  unless  thar's  need  —  for  her." 

He  was  already  some  distance  away,  following  the 
tracks.  Mrs.  Felps  went  into  the  house. 

"  He'll  find  her  —  Ab  '11  find  her,"  she  said.  "  Lor  ! 
he'd  foller  them  tracks  to  the  other  side  o'  creation  afore 
he'd  give  ur-rp." 

She  went  into  Marshall's  room  comforted,  and  for  the 
first  time  since  she  started  out  stood  still  long  enough  to 
take  breath. 

When  Abner  reached  the  high  road,  he  was  puzzled. 
There  were  marks  of  wheels  in  both  directions.  A  cer- 
tain instinct  made  him  turn  away  from  the  Gap.  Reason 
told  him  the  men  would  go  through  the  Gap  if  their 


VISITING   THE   SIN  313 

object  was,  as  he  believed,  to  carry  Marshall  out  of  the 
village.  Yet  he  turned  away.  And  a  few  yards  further 
on  he  came  to  a  stone  that  was  ground  by  the  passing 
of  a  wagon  over  its  edge.  The  dust  was  newly  strewn 
upon  the  ground.  He  examined  it  by  the  light  of  his 
lantern. 

"  They've  done  gone  to  the  Ridges,"  he  said. 

He  turned  off  along  the  road  the  wagon  had  taken. 

If  John  Kisselbaugh  had  not  driven  back  by  a  differ- 
ent route,  he  would  have  met  Abner  at  the  outset  of  the 
search.  He  reached  his  own  home  at  the  time  when 
Ab  was  carefully  working  his  way  along  the  cross-road, 
stopping  often  to  assure  himself  that  the  wagon  had  not 
turned  aside.  He  was  making  slow  progress,  for  the 
search  must  be  thorough.  There  were  side  paths  into 
the  woods  to  be  examined,  and  openings  among  the  trees, 
into  any  one  of  which  a  wagon  could  be  driven.  Abner 
failed  to  understand  why  this  road  had  been  selected. 
It  led  to  hamlets  across  the  hills,  but  there  seemed  no 
reason  for  choosing  it  rather  than  any  other. 

The  time  went  on.  It  was  long  since  he  had  seen 
any  trace  of  wagon  wheels  other  than  the  deep  ruts  that 
were  always  in  evidence.  He  had  begun  to  wish  for 
daylight,  and  to  fear  that  he  had  lost  the  clue,  when  his 
light  shone  on  grass  newly  trampled  down.  Footsteps 
had  been  on  it  since  the  night  dews  fell.  He  swung  his 
lantern  round.  Where  was  he  ? 

"The  cave!"  he  ejaculated,  and  stood  still  to  think. 

It  lay  a  field's  length  off  the  road.  He  knew  it  well, 
and  went  on  confidently. 

"  Hit  would  du  to  put  him  in,"  he  said  meditatively. 
"  But  hit  was  a  fool's  plan." 

He  hardly  stopped  to  notice  the  marks  of  the  wheels 
on  the  long  grass.  He  did  not  doubt  that  he  had  found 
the  goal. 

"Thar's  lots  of  prongs,"  he  said,  as  he  stood  within 
the  cave. 


314  VISITING  THE    SIN 

Was  Norah  here  still,  or  had  she  already  gone  ?  He 
was  sure  that  she  had  been  here,  or  rather  that  the 
wagon  and  the  men  had  been  here,  for  the  grass  round 
the  opening  gave  evidence  of  recent  trampling. 

"  Norah ! " 

The  voice  rang  through  the  cave,  but  it  failed  to 
penetrate  the  mass  of  fallen  rock  that  lay  between 
Abner  and  the  girl  he  sought. 

He  called  again  and  again,  and  then  began  a  system- 
atic search.  He  had  already  followed  several  passages 
to  their  end  before  he  stepped  into  the  one  that  pres- 
ently brought  him  up  short.  He  stood  staring  at  the 
fallen  stone,  letting  the  light  of  his  lantern  flash  upon  it. 

"  That  didn't  come  thar  by  no  ordinary  means ;  and 
hit  hain't  been  long  thar,  neither,"  he  said. 

He  stooped  to  examine  the  broken  rock. 

"  If  that  hain't  been  blowed  up,  my  name  hain't  Ab 
Poteet ! "  he  ejaculated.  "  What  have  they  done  hit 
for?" 

He  stood  scratching  his  head.  Then  a  thought 
struck  him.  He  brought  the  axe  down  on  the  floor 
with  a  sharp  report. 

"  The  brutes  ! "  he  said.     «  She's  behind  thar ! " 

Then  he  raised  his  voice. 

"  Norah  !     Norah,  girl,  are  you  tha-ar  ? " 

He  was  trembling  with  excitement. 

Back  upon  him  came  the  sound  of  his  own  voice, 
hemmed  in  by  the  rock  walls.  Hark !  Was  that  an 
answering  cry  ? 

"I'm  —  shet  —  in!  He's  —  done  —  blowed  the  pas- 
sage ur-rp ! " 

By  the  faintness  of  the  sounds  he  judged  of  the  thick- 
ness of  broken  rock  between  himself  and  the  girl. 

"  I'll  git  you  aout.     Hit's  me, — •  Ab,"  he  said  tenderly. 

«  I  —  was  —  wishin'  —  for  —  you." 

How  the  words  thrilled  his  heart,  and  set  his  nerves 


VISITING   THE    SIN  315 

tingling !  Wishin'  for  him  !  He  wanted  to  wrap  the 
speaker  in  his  strong  arms,  and  promise  her  that  danger 
should  never  come  near  her  again.  Instead  of  that, 
however,  the  arms  began  to  swing  the  heavy  axe  up  and 
down,  hewing  an  opening  through  the  rock.  He  was 
glad  now  that  he  had  brought  the  implement. 

Abner  was  a  strong  man,  but  that  rock  soon  con- 
vinced him  that  he  was  not  likely  by  this  means  to 
stand  in  Norah' s  presence  for  many  hours  to  come. 
He  lifted  his  voice  again. 

"Is  thar  plenty  of  air  inside ? " 

"  Not  —  a  —  mighty  —  big  —  lot.  Hit's  tollable  — 
used  —  up." 

The  voice  was  brave,  but  it  was  fainter  than  before. 
The  closeness  of  the  air  and  the  strain  of  waiting 
were  telling  upon  the  girl.  Abner  stopped  those  steady 
blows,  and  stood  up  to  think. 

"  I'm  goin'  to  try  another  way,"  he  called.  "  Wait  a 
leetle,  Norah.  I'll  hev  you  aout  afore  long." 

"I  am  —  waitin',"  said  the  girl,  with  a  little  laugh  in 
her  voice,  but  a  sob  at  the  end  of  the  laugh.  He  heard 
neither.  The  rock  was  too  thick.  But  he  turned  away 
with  a  tender  compassion  in  his  heart. 

Norah  listened  for  the  sound  of  the  axe.  It  did  not 
come  again.  The  time  seemed  longer  now  that  those 
steady  strokes  had  ceased.  Had  he  gone  away  for 
help? 

"  Abner ! "  she  called,  but  there  was  no  answer. 

It  was  quite  dark  within  her  prison,  for  the  girl  had 
not  dared  again  to  light  the  candle.  The  air  was  too 
oppressive  already.  She  felt  faint  and  weak. 

"Thar's  nobody  but  Ab,"  she  said.  "Mammy  hain't 
told  nary  other  person." 

The  thought  comforted  her,  and  helped  to  keep  her 
head  steady.  Many  minutes  passed.  They  seemed  like 
hours  to  Norah.  She  groped  her  way  back  to  the  open 


316  VISITING   THE    SIN 

chamber, —  the  air  was  less  oppressive  there, —  and  stood 
straining  her  ears  for  the  sound  of  Abner's  return. 
She  wondered  whether  it  was  the  effect  of  the  failing 
of  the  air  within  the  chamber  that  she  heard  strange 
noises  about  her.  There  was  a  splashing  of  water 
somewhere  in  the  distance,  and  then  a  sound  of  scram- 
bling and  climbing. 

"  Norah,  dear,  are  you  thar  ? " 

"Ab!     OAb!     I'm  so  glad!" 

She  struck  a  light  recklessly,  for  his  had  been 
extinguished. 

He  was  standing  in  the  chamber,  dripping  and  dazed. 

"  How  did  you  come  in  ?  "  she  asked,  making  her  way 
swiftly  towards  him. 

"  Through  thar !  "  he  said,  pointing  to  the  hole  down 
which  the  water  poured  slowly.  "  Hit  leads  into  another 
prong." 

He  was  by  her  side  a  moment  later,  holding  her  hand. 

"  You  hain't  hurt,  Norah  ? "  he  asked.  "  Them  brutes 
hain't  touched  you  ?  " 

"  They  touch  me  !  " 

Her  head  was  tossed  proudly. 

He  looked  into  her  face  for  a  moment,  and  then  bent 
forward  and  touched  it  tenderly  with  one  wet  finger. 

"  Thank  God  I  found  you  afore  it  was  too  late,"  he 
said  solemnly.  "Thar's  time  enough  to  deal  with  them 
atter  I  git  you  aout." 

She  laughed, —  an  unsteady  laugh. 

"  I'll  du  the  dealin'  thar,"  she  said. 

He  gave  her  one  long,  wistful  look,  and  turned  away. 
His  eyes  were  searching  the  floor  of  the  cave. 

"  Better  put  that  candle  aout,"  he  said.  "  I've  got  to 
light  the  lantern." 

He  had  been  carrying  it  in  his  hand.  Now  he  lit  it 
and  went  to  the  part  of  the  chamber  where  the  water 
flowed  in. 


VISITING  THE   SIN  317 

"  I'm  goin'  to  set  hit  runnin'  another  way  for  a  piece," 
he  said. 

The  strong  arm  began  to  swing  lustily.  Abner  was 
hewing  a  channel  towards  a  lower  level  of  the  chamber. 
It  would  draw  off  the  water,  and  prevent  it  from  flowing 
into  the  hole  by  which  he  had  entered.  The  girl 
watched  him  for  a  minute,  and  then  came  forward  and 
held  the  lantern.  The  air  was  becoming  more  oppres- 
sive. Abner  worked  with  the  energy  born  of  hope  and 
necessity.  It  was  but  a  small  ridge  of  rock  that  must 
be  cut  through  before  the  water  would  flow  into  the  new 
channel,  and  descend  to  a  lower  part  of  the  chamber. 
It  would  not  again  seek  its  former  outlet  until  it  had 
rilled  the  depression.  Before  he  had  finished,  the  light 
was  growing  dim,  and  the  arms  of  the  girl  powerless. 
She  had  been  in  the  close  air  a  long  time. 

"Thar!" 

The  water  was  turned  from  its  course.  It  went  suck- 
ing down  through  the  cut.  A  feeble  light  yet  glimmered 
in  the  lantern.  Abner  sprang  to  the  hole  through  which 
he  had  come,  and  with  his  hat  began  baling  out  the 
water.  He  kept  up  the  effort  till  the  light  almost  went 
out. 

"  We've  got  to  go,  dear,"  he  said,  turning  to  Norah. 
"  You'll  git  wet,  but  thar  hain't  no  danger  now.  The 
water  hain't  powerful  deep." 

She  staggered  towards  him,  and  put  her  hand  in  his. 
He  took  it  in  a  firm  grasp,  and  extinguished  the  last 
flicker  of  light.  Then  she  felt  his  arm  about  her,  and 
the  next  moment  found  herself  in  the  water. 

"  We're  through.     You  hain't  hurt,  are  you  ? " 

He  was  holding  her  tightly,  and  trying  to  see  into  her 
face.  They  were  on  the  dry  rock  again,  dripping  and 
breathless.  It  had  been  but  a  short  rush  through  the 
pool,  for  now  that  the  water  had  stopped  coming  in  that 
direction,  the  stream  beyond  had  run  almost  dry.  When 
Abner  came  through  it,  there  was  much  water  in  it. 


3i8  VISITING   THE    SIN 

"  No,  I  hain't  hurt.     Whar  are  we  ?  " 

"  In  the  next  prong.  We  can  walk  plumb  aout  of 
hit  to  the  open  air." 

He  waited  a  minute,  still  keeping  his  arm  about  her. 
He  could  not  see  her. 

"  Can  you  stand  while  I  light  the  lantern  ? "  he  asked. 

"  Oh,  yes,"  she  said  ;  but  she  staggered  when  the  arm 
was  removed. 

The  first  faint  streak  of  dawn  was  in  the  sky  when 
Abner  and  Norah  walked  up  to  the  door  of  the  cottage. 
Abner  held  the  girl's  hand  in  his.  There  was  a  light  on 
his  face. 

"  Hit  hain't  safe  to  let  her  go  with  they-uns  agin," 
he  said,  as  Mrs.  Felps  came  to  the  door.  "  Thar  was 
danger." 

The  colour  had  not  yet  returned  to  the  girl's  face. 

"  Why,  Norah  ! "  said  the  little  woman  tenderly. 

"  Hit's  all  right,  mammy.  Is  Marshall  safe  ? "  said 
the  girl. 

"  He's  sleepin'  yit,"  replied  her  mother.  "  Come  in, 
Abner." 

He  hesitated. 

"  No.     I'm  goin'  back,"  he  said. 

"Ab!" 

It  was  Norah  who  spoke. 

He  stopped  directly. 

"  Don't  tell  ary  person  of  this  night's  work,"  said  the 
girl.  "  Leave  John  Kisselbaugh  and  Wash  alone." 

He  hesitated. 

"Ab!" 

He  turned  to  her  with  a  look  in  his  eyes  that  she  did 
not  understand.  She  came  forward  a  step,  and  laid  her 
hand  on  his  arm. 

"  Hit's  for  him,  Ab." 

Then  Abner  lifted  his  lantern,  and  let  its  light  fall  on 
her  face.  She  did  not  turn  her  eyes  away,  only  a  smile 
came  to  her  lips. 


VISITING  THE   SIN  319 

"  Hit  hain't  safe,"  she  said.  "  Hit  hain't  safe  neither 
for  you  nor  hi-im.  And  besides,"  she  added,  with  a  mis- 
chievous light  dawning  in  her  eyes,  "I'm  goin*  to  deal 
with  'em  myself, —  with  one  of  'em,  anyway." 

He  lowered  the  lantern. 

"  I  want  them  to  think  they  have  succeeded,"  she 
continued.  "  I  hain't  wantin'  to  hev  all  this  bother  for 
note.  Hit'll  be  plumb  worth  hit  all  to  see  'em  when 
they  know.  Hit'll  be  better  'n  blows." 

He  was  looking  at  her  steadily. 

"Hit's  jist  as  you  say,"  he  responded  at  last. 

"  You  are  good,"  she  said.  "  Mammy,"  turning  to 
Mrs.  Felps,  "you  done  the  best  thing  when  you  sent 
Ab.  You  wouldn't  'a  seed  me  comin'  back  naow  if  hit 
hadn't  been  for  hi-im." 

The  little  woman  laid  her  hand  on  Norah's  arm. 

"Come  in,  honey,"  she  said.  "And,  Ab,  you  go 
home  and  git  them  wet  clothes  offn  you.  You  hain't 
neither  of  ye  fit  to  du  no  more  talkin'." 


320  VISITING   THE    SIN 


CHAPTER    XXII 

WASH  FOREHAND  was  sober.  It  was  the 
first  time  this  could  have  been  said  of  him 
since  the  morning  when  Will  Hollingsworth 
paid  him  an  early  visit.  He  was  sober  after  ten  days  of 
delusion  and  passion.  Those  ten  days  were  pursuing 
him  insistently,  making  their  personality  aggressively 
prominent.  They  would  not  permit  him  to  go  back  to 
the  point  whence  they  started  out  from  the  level  round 
of  his  life,  and  changed  it  into  a  turmoil  of  passionate 
hatred.  He  would  gladly  have  forgotten  them,  but 
they  protested.  It  would  have  been  easier  to  forget  all 
that  came  before. 

Wash  had  not  returned  to  the  cave,  though  a  week 
had  passed  since  he  left  his  patient  there.  More  than 
once  he  had  gloated  over  the  thought  of  what  lay 
sealed  up  at  the  further  end  —  but  that  was  before  he 
was  sober.  He  did  not  gloat  now.  He  wanted  to  for- 
get, but  he  could  not.  Wash  was  not  fierce  of  nature, 
except  when  passion  seized  him  or  drink  possessed  him. 
When  both  worked  together,  he  could  be  dangerous. 
For  the  time  being  passion  was  dead, —  burnt  out. 
And  he  had  left  the  drink  alone  for  twenty-four  hours. 

The  story  of  his  night  adventure  had  gone  abroad. 
Wash  had  not  told  of  it,  but  John  Kisselbaugh  and  the 
others  had  been  less  reticent.  It  was  an  open  secret 
that  Marshall  Lane  Rutherford  had  been  carried  off  by 
force,  and  placed  where  he  would  be  less  of  a  menace 
to  the  village  than  in  the  house  of  Mrs.  Felps.  Just 
where  that  was,  nobody  in  Big  Creek  Gap  could  have 
told.  On  this  point  the  conspirators  kept  their  own 
counsel. 


VISITING   THE   SIN  321 

There  were  many  who  were  curious.  Contrary  to 
Naomi's  expectations,  Mrs.  Felps  had  visitors  in  plenty. 
She  sent  them  all  off  with  the  assurance  that  "thar 
warn't  nothin'  to  tell  only  what  they  knew  a'ready,  and 
the  house  warn't  healthy  for  nobody  to  come  into.  If 
they  wanted  to  know  the  up  and  daown  of  hit  all,  hit 
was  easy  enough  told.  Big  Creek  was  all  for  hitself. 
Hit  had  a  mighty  straight  law  and  gospel  that  a  babe 
could  understand.  'Lue-uke  aout  for  we-uns,'  that  was 
abaout  the  go  of  hit ;  and  if  we-uns  have  got  a  tol'rable 
good  kind  of  a  place  to  live  in,  or  ary  other  likely  thing 
belongin'  to  us,  take  plumb  good  care  to  keep  hit  for 
we-uns'  benefit.  Ourn  mustn't  lose  nothin'  for  out- 
siders. Think  of  we-uns,  and  not  of  ary  poor  sufferer 
that's  dependin'  for  his  life  on  the  kindness  that's  in 
his  feller-men.  Lor,"  continued  the  little  woman 
sharply,  "  thar  hain't  no  need  to  come  and  ask  me  what 
happened.  What  is  hit  that's  likely  to  happen  when 
t bar's  one  sick  man,  helpless  and  weak,  and  six  great 
powerful  fellers  bent  on  protectin'  themselves  agin  him  ? 
You-uns  can  tell  what  happened  as  good  as  I  can. 
Mercy  sakes !  go  home,  and  rejoice  that  you  live  in  Big 
Creek  Gap,  whar  thar  hain't  a  mite  o'  clanger  that  ary 
person  will  ever  be  injured  through  hevin'  too  much 
compassion ! " 

Nobody  got  further  than  the  threshold  of  the  cottage. 
The  door  was  kept  locked. 

"  Hit  hain't  safe  to  leave  doors  undone  in  Big  Creek," 
said  Mrs.  Felps  significantly. 

Norah  was  not  visible,  on  the  day  after  the  exploit,  or 
any  other.  She  sat  by  Marshall's  side,  watching  the 
balance  waver  between  life  and  death,  and  helping,  by 
her  care,  to  turn  the  scale  in  the  right  direction.  Of 
late  she  was  meeting  with  her  reward.  In  spite  of  the 
absence  of  medical  aid,  Marshall  was  improving. 

The  eyes  that  had  before  looked  at  her  with  a  puz- 


322  VISITING   THE    SIN 

zled  reaching  after  something  to  hold  by  had  recogni- 
tion in  them  now.  Marshall  found  the  change  from  his 
cousin's  laborious  nursing  to  the  light  touch  and  sooth- 
ing voice  of  this  girl  a  tremendous  improvement.  He 
watched  her  with  a  new  feeling  of  interest.  It  was 
Abner  who  told  him  what  he  owed  to  her  courage  and 
readiness  of  resource.  The  information  almost  caused 
a  relapse.  Marshall's  eyes  grew  dangerously  bright. 
She  laughed  into  them  when  he  tried  to  thank  her,  and 
to  express  some  of  his  indignation  at  the  same  time. 

"  Lor!  thar  hain't  no  need  for  we-uns  to  git  excited," 
she  said.  "  We  hain't  come  plumb  to  the  end  yit." 

It  was  a  step  towards  the  end  when  Mrs.  Felps,  after 
a  cheerful  word  to  her  patient,  left  the  cottage  while 
the  dew  was  yet  on  the  grass.  She  had  not  been  out 
of  the  house  since  she  ran  in  the  darkness  to  Abner' s 
cabin.  She  lifted  her  head,  and  took  in  a  long  breath  of 
the  cool  morning  air.  Then  she  turned,  and  almost  ran 
into  Abner's  arms.  He  was  coming  to  the  cottage. 
He  came  every  day  now. 

"  Go  in  and  lue-uke  atter  Norah,"  she  said.  "  You 
can  be  useful  if  ary  person  should  knock  at  the  door." 

She  understood  the  expression  of  his  eyes,  and  the 
alacrity  with  which  he  covered  the  space  between  him- 
self and  the  house.  Abner  would  have  started  unques- 
tioningly  for  the  other  end  of  the  earth  if  he  had  been 
told  that  thereby  he  could  serve  Norah. 

There  was  a  motherly  look  on  the  little  woman's  face 
as  she  moved  away. 

"  Poor  feller  !  "  she  said  softly. 

She  was  not  thinking  of  Wash  Forehand,  though  it 
was  Wash  she  was  going  to  see. 

Perhaps  it  was  that  motherly  look,  which  had  not  yet 
faded  from  her  face,  that  made  a  girl  stop  sharply,  and 
turn  back  after  she  had  passed  her.  Naomi  Mozingo 
was  not  in  the  habit  of  exchanging  many  words  with 


VISITING   THE    SIN  323 

Mrs.  Felps.  But  when  the  heart  is  sore,  habit's  fetters 
lose  strength. 

"  Mrs  Felps ! "  she  said,  in  a  voice  that  was  both  in- 
sistent and  pleading. 

The  little  woman  stopped,  and  turned  about.  She 
did  not  speak,  however.  She  had  nothing  to  say  to  this 
girl  whose  tall,  shapely  figure  towered  above  her. 

"Mrs.  Felps,"  Naomi  repeated, —  and  now  the  sharp 
gaze  of  the  listener  had  discovered  the  dark  rings  round 
the  girl's  eyes, — "will  you  tell  me  whether  you  have  had 
any  news  of  your  patient  yet  ? " 

"What  news  should  I  have?"  inquired  Mrs.  Felps 
wonderingly.  "  Hit's  you  that  should  be  able  to  tell  me 
what  has  become  of  him." 

An  expression  of  pain  passed  over  the  girl's  face. 

"  Mrs.  Felps,"  she  said,  "  I  have  had  naught  to  do 
with  this.  Believe  me,  I  am  as  sorry  as  you  can  be  for 
what  has  happened ;  and  I  know  as  little  what  has  be- 
come of  Marshall  Rutherford." 

A  queer  little  smile  played  about  Mrs.  Felps' s  lips. 

"Darter,"  she  said,  "did  you  ever  roll  a  stone  up  hill 
till  hit  come  to  the  top,  and  then  let  hit  go  ?  Hit  didn't 
take  no  rollin'  to  send  hit  clar  daown  the  other  side,  but 
hit  warn't  plumb  true  that  you  hadn't  note  to  du  with 
the  fallin'.  Them  that  starts  the  stone  rollin'  has  a 
si-ight  to  du  with  whar  it  lands,  and  with  the  heads  hit 
breaks  goin'  daown  atter  they're  tuk  their  hands  offn 
hit." 

There  was  no  doubt  about  the  pain  in  the  eyes  that 
looked  down  into  the  speaker's. 

"  I  never  meant  that  the  stone  should  fall  as  it  did," 
said  the  girl  slowly.  "I  sought  justice, —  not  cruelty." 

She  turned  away,  and  went  with  swift  steps  towards 
the  valley  road.  And  when  Mrs.  Felps  resumed  her 
walk  she  was  no  longer  conscious  of  the  dew  sparkling 
upon  the  grass.  She  was  only  conscious  of  the  suffer- 
ing in  a  girl's  eyes. 


324  VISITING   THE   SIN 

"  Hit  hain't  payin',  darter,"  she  said.  "And  hit  won't 
never  pay." 

The  conviction  was  deepened  when  she  came  upon 
Wash  Forehand,  standing  outside  his  barn,  and  looking 
off  into  vacancy.  His  eyes  had  a  worried,  hunted  look 
in  them.  He  started  when  he  saw  her  standing  before 
him. 

"  Was  you  luekin'  back  at  the  gue-ude  things  you'd 
done,  Wash,  or  forrard  to  the  consequences  that  was  a 
comin'  ? "  asked  the  little  woman  quietly 

He  moved  uneasily,  but  did  not  speak. 

"Wash,"  continued  the  speaker,  "whar's  that  sick 
person  you  tuk  away  yesterday  was  a  week  ? " 

He  turned  his  back  on  her.  He  could  not  bear  the 
scrutiny  of  those  bright  eyes. 

"  Whar  did  you  carry  that  bed  o'  mine  ? "  continued 
the  visitor.  "You  hain't  no  right  to  tha-at,  Wa-ash, 
whatever  you  may  think  you  hev  to  the  life  of  the  one 
that  was  lay  in'  on  hit." 

"If  you  don't  git  that  bed  back,  I'll  make  the  loss 
good,"  he  said  hoarsely. 

"  Will  you  make  all  the  loss  you've  done  me  good  ? " 
she  asked  sharply. 

"  Yes." 

"Then,  Wash  Forehand,  give  me  back  my  girl." 
The  little  woman's  voice  was  low  and  earnest.  "  Du  you 
know  who  you  tuk  away  by  force  that  night,  and  carried 
nobody  knows  whar  ?  Du  you  know  who  was  a  layin' 
on  that  thar  bed  ?  Wash,  thar  was  no  human  compas- 
sion left  in  your  heart  nor  ary  one  o'  the  hearts  o'  the 
men  that  was  with  you.  You  warn't  ashamed  to  act 
worse  'n  the  brutes.  But  thar  was  enough  compassion 
in  a  girl's  heart  to  make  her  stop  your  cruelty.  You 
thought  you  tuk  Marshall  Rutherford  on  that  thar  bed. 
Wash  Forehand,  hit  was  Norah  you  tuk, —  my  darter, 
Give  me  back  my  girl ! " 


VISITING   THE   SIN  325 

She  stopped  and  looked  at  him.  He  had  turned 
towards  her,  his  face  white  and  horror-stricken.  There 
was  no  attempt  to  hide  it  now. 

"  Norah  !  " 

"Yes.  What  have  you  done  with  her?  Give  me 
back  my  girl." 

He  put  up  his  hand  to  his  head  in  a  dazed  fashion. 

"  Norah  !  "  he  said  again.  Then  his  eyes  fell  on  the 
mother's  face.  "  Give  her  back  to  you  ?  "  he  said.  "  I 


The  last  word  was  a  cry  of  despair. 

"  Why  not  ?  You  said  you  would  make  good  my 
loss!" 

"I  cain't,"  he  cried  again.     "  She's  dead!  " 

Even  as  he  spoke,  he  was  racing  across  the  fields  like 
one  frantic. 

"  He's  goin'  to  the  cave,"  said  Mrs.  Felps. 

She  watched  him  out  of  sight,  and  then  retraced  her 
steps  toward  her  own  house. 

"  Hit  hain't  pay  in',"  she  said. 

She  would  have  been  more  sure  of  it  if  she  could 
have  seen  Wash  tearing  at  the  stones  and  rubbish  within 
the  cave,  working  like  a  madman  to  remove  the  rock  he 
had  taken  so  much  pains  to  bring  down.  Every  now 
and  then  he  would  stop,  while  a  girl's  name  rang 
through  the  dark  passages,  the  sound  coming  back  upon 
him  heavy  and  hopeless. 

"  Norah  !  Norah,  my  girl,  I  warn't  aimin'  to  du 
hit!" 

His  hands  were  bleeding  from  their  reckless  contact 
with  the  sharp  edges  of  the  rocks.  He  had  borrowed  a 
lantern  and  shovel  from  the  nearest  house,  but  he  did 
not  stay  for  implements  when  his  fingers  could  do  more 
rapid  execution.  He  worked  desperately,  thrusting  his 
hands  between  great  lumps  of  stone  that  he  hurled  out 
of  his  way  with  headlong  haste. 


326  VISITING   THE    SIN 

Streams  of  perspiration  poured  down  his  face. 
Every  muscle  was  strained  to  its  utmost.  Masses  of 
rock  that  under  ordinary  circumstances  would  have  re- 
quired three  men  to  move  them,  yielded  before  the  long- 
continued,  savage  output  of  strength,  and  parted  inch 
by  inch  from  their  fellows,  till  he  could  worm  his  way 
behind  them,  and  come  so  much  the  nearer  to  whatever 
lay  prisoned  in  the  rock  chamber  beyond  those  tons  of 
inert  matter.  As  each  vantage-point  was  gained,  the 
wild  cry,  "  Norah !  Norah,  girl ! "  now  hoarse  and 
pleading,  now  loud  and  passionate,  disturbed  the  close 
air. 

Once  or  twice  Wash  threaded  his  way  out  from  the 
rock  heap,  and  started  for  the  mouth  of  the  cave,  almost 
resolved  to  call  for  help.  It  might  not  yet  be  too  late 
to  save  her.  Every  moment  was  precious.  But  he 
never  reached  the  daylight.  The  thought  of  what  would 
greet  the  workers  when  they  had  opened  up  a  way 
through  the  obstruction  came  like  a  stretched-out  arm 
to  bar  his  progress.  The  secret  of  that  rock  chamber 
was  as  yet  all  his  own.  The  explosion  had,  indeed,  been 
heard  outside ;  but  the  men  were  at  the  time  some  dis- 
tance away,  and  were  moreover  too  thoroughly  intoxi- 
cated to  give  the  sound  more  than  passing  notice. 

"That  was  a  powerful  near  go,"  Wash  had  said  as  he 
joined  them  a  few  minutes  later.  "A  great  chunk  of 
rock  bigger  'n  ary  one  of  we-uns  come  near  fallin'  plumb 
on  my  head.  Hear  it  thunder  daown  ?  " 

They  had  accepted  his  explanation,  and  his  secret 
remained  undiscovered. 

What  was  to  follow  the  revelation  which  awaited  the 
first  man  who  passed  beyond  that  barrier  ?  The  ques- 
tion deterred  Wash  from  bringing  witnesses  upon  the 
scene.  He  came  back  and  resumed  his  efforts,  working 
gradually  nearer  to  the  object  of  his  desire  and  dread. 

It  was  early  morning  when  he  disappeared  within  the 


VISITING   THE   SIN  327 

yawning  mouth  of  the  cave.  Darkness  had  swept 
slowly  down  and  settled  upon  Big  Creek  Gap  when  he 
drew  himself  clear  of  the  rubbish,  and  stood  gasping 
for  breath.  The  veins  stood  out  dark  on  his  forehead. 
His  face  was  purple.  He  had  succeeded  in  opening  an 
irregular  passage  more  than  half-way  through  that  un- 
yielding mass.  The  wall  between  him  and  the  prison 
he  had  made  had  become  thin.  If  the  breath  of  life  yet 
lingered  beyond,  he  ought  now  to  be  able  to  win 
response  to  his  pleadings.  They  had  been  loud  and 
prolonged ;  in  turn,  passionate,  humble,  beseeching,  de- 
spairing. They  had  been  shouted  with  all  the  energy 
of  lungs  that  almost  rent  themselves  in  the  effort,  but 
they  had  met  with  no  answering  shout.  Now  he  drew 
back  into  the  freer  space  of  the  passage,  and  stood 
dazed,  hopeless,  gasping  and  trembling. 

"  She's  dead ! "  he  said,  in  a  low,  hoarse  voice.  "  I've 
done  killed  her,  and  I  wouldn't  'a  hurt  a  hair  of  her  head 
to  save  my  life." 

Then  a  passion  of  remorse  and  longing  seized  him. 

"  Norah  !  Norah,  my  girl ! "  he  shouted,  in  a  voice  that 
went  beating  against  the  damp  walls.  "  Cain't  you  say 
one  little  word  ?  I  warn't  aimin'  to  do  hit,  Norah, — 
I  warn't" 

He  was  shaking  with  a  tempest  of  horror  and  grief. 

"What  would  you  hev  me  say  to  a  murderer?" 

Where  did  it  come  from, —  the  low,  thrilling  whisper 
that  sent  the  blood  running  like  fire  through  his  veins  ? 
It  was  her  voice, —  Norah' s. 

Instinctively  he  turned  towards  the  prison  chamber, 
The  sound  must  come  from  thence,  though  his  ears  told 
him  it  did  not. 

"  Norah  !     Is  hit  you  ?     Are  you  alive  in  thar  ? " 

It  was  no  wonder  his  voice  was  hoarse.  His  heart 
was  beating  so  wildly. 

"  Alive  in  thar !  Wash  Forehand,  du  you  dare  to  ask 
that,—  you  ? " 


328  VISITING   THE    SIN 

He  faced  sharply  round.  The  sound  came  unmistak- 
ably from  behind. 

"  What  is  hit  ? "  he  cried  in  an  awe-struck  tone,  his 
hand  uplifted  in  fear. 

A  shadowy  figure  could  be  dimly  discerned  in  the 
furthermost  stretches  of  the  light  thrown  by  his  lantern, 
a  figure  suggestive  of  Norah,  or  —  could  it  be  her  spirit  ? 
White,  swaying,  ethereal,  it  came  a  step  towards  him,  and 
stopped. 

"  You  call  on  a  live  girl,"  said  the  voice,  in  tones  low 
and  clear.  "  Hit's  not  alive  that  the  murderer  sees  his 
victim." 

He  shrank  from  those  low,  penetrating  tones.  They 
chilled  him  to  the  heart. 

"  I  left  food  and  drink,"  he  pleaded  ;  "and  —  I  didn't 
know  hit  was  you-u." 

The  last  words  were  a  wail. 

"  Lue-uke  at  me !     Lue-uke,  Wash  Forehand." 

The  girl  had  come  a  few  steps  nearer.  The  light  of 
the  lantern  fell  upon  her.  There  was  something  ghostly, 
unreal,  in  her  appearance  in  that  dark  cave.  She  need 
not  have  told  him  to  look.  He  could  not  have  turned 
his  eyes  from  her  if  he  had  tried. 

"Wash  Forehand,"  she  continued,  "you  thought  you 
tuk  a  sick  man  in  thar.  You  tuk  me  —  and  you  set  to 
work  to  murder  me." 

"No,  no,  I  didn't!"  cried  Wash;  and  the  words 
were  almost  a  shriek.  "  I  never  aimed  to  du  hit.  I 
wouldn't "  — 

"  You  blowed  up  the  rock,  and  left  me  thar  with  less  'n 
enough  air  to  last  twenty-four  hours,"  interrupted  the 
girl,  in  the  same  low,  vibrating  voice  that  never  changed 
its  tone,  but  that  thrilled  through  and  through  the  lis- 
tener, at  one  moment  setting  his  blood  on  fire  and  the 
next  sending  it  back  to  his  heart  with  an  icy  chill. 
"Afore  you  woke  from  that  drunken  sleep  atter  you 


VISITING   THE   SIN  329 

done  shet  me  in,  the  air  inside  thar  was  plumb  gone. 
Hit  was  chokin'  me.  I  never  drawed  a  breath  of  hit 
atter." 

A  cry,  loud  and  long,  rang  through  the  cave. 

"I  done  killed  her!  Thar  hain't  no  hope!  She's 
dead !  Norah's  dead ! " 

He  had  been  hoping  against  hope  all  day.  Now  the 
certainty  of  Norah's  death  seized  upon  him,  pressed 
itself  into  his  consciousness.  "  I  never  drawed  a  breath 
of  hit  atter."  The  words  haunted  him.  He  saw  the 
girl  he  loved  fighting  for  breath  in  the  dark  prison  he 
had  made, —  not  for  her,  oh,  not  for  her.  She  was  lying 
there  at  that  moment,  dead ;  and  her  spirit  had  come  to 
accuse  him.  A  terror  of  that  presence  in  the  passage 
seized  him.  It  was  so  like  Norah,  yet  it  was  cold  to  his 
pleading.  He  turned  and  dashed  in  among  the  rocks, 
heedlessly  bruising  himself  against  them.  He  was 
maddened  by  the  despair  that  held  him  in  its  grip,  and 
by  the  consciousness  of  the  figure  standing  motionless 
behind  him.  He  had  no  remembrance  of  the  obstruc- 
tions that  lay  in  his  way.  His  one  thought  was  to  get 
as  far  as  possible  from  that  accusing  voice. 

It  was  no  wonder  that  he  stumbled,  no  wonder  that 
he  was  hurled  forward  upon  the  edge  of  a  great  piece 
of  rock.  The  blow  stunned  him.  It  came  with  resist- 
less force,  as  if  the  inanimate  stone  had  become  an 
intelligent  agent,  dealing  out  retribution  for  the  crime 
that  now  met  him  face  to  face. 

He  was  too  much  dazed  to  know  that  the  lantern  had 
fallen  from  his  hand  ;  but  when  he  lifted  his  head,  from 
which  the  blood  was  trickling,  he  found  himself  in 
darkness.  The  pain  of  the  blow  helped  to  bewilder  him 
further.  He  could  not  have  told  whether  he  had  fallen, 
or  whether  some  mysterious  force,  emanating  from  that 
presence  in  the  passage  behind,  had  been  exerted  against 
him.  The  superstitions  that  were  part  of  the  air  he 


330  VISITING   THE    SIN 

breathed  took  hold  of  him.  He  did  not  try  to  rise,  but 
lay  trembling.  And  while  he  lay,  he  heard  again  the 
voice  that  now  was  full  of  terror  to  him. 

"Wash  Forehand,"  it  said,  "you  hadn't  no  pity,  and 
you  cain't  expect  none.  You're  plumb  guilty  of 
murder.  Thar  was  murder  in  your  heart." 

The  sounds  were  approaching. 

"Thar  was  murder  in  your  heart,"  the  voice  con- 
tinued, "  and  that  murder  you  aimed  to  du  is  writ  down 
agin  you.  You've  got  to  answer  for  hit,  because  you 
done  give  hit  a  place  in  your  heart." 

" I  warn't  aimin'  at  murderin' you" 

It  was  a  moan  of  dissent  and  deprecation. 

"  You  done  what  you  warn't  aimin'  to  du  that  night, 
but  you  didn't  du  no  worse  than  you  was  aimin'  to  du," 
continued  the  voice.  "Wash  —  Wash  Forehand,  thar's 
lives  that  are  white  and  clean  by  the  side  of  yourn  that's 
pursued  by  ha'nts  and  by  judgments.  How  axe  you  goin' 
to  escape, —  you, —  a  murderer  of  the  sick  and  helpless  ? " 

"I  hain't  escapin'." 

"  No,  and  you  hain't  goin'  to  escape,"  said  that  low, 
relentless  voice,  every  tone  of  which  went  to  his  heart. 
"Hit's  easy  to  sin, —  plumb  easy, —  but  hit  hain't  easy 
to  face  what  comes  atter.  You're  facin'  hit,  Wash." 

She  was  very  close  to  him  now.  She  could  hear  his 
breath  coming  heavily. 

"  I  know  hit,"  he  said  despairingly. 

"  And  you've  got  to  face  hit.  Wash  Forehand,  you 
done  had  your  will  on  me-e.  Naow  hit's  my  turn." 

He  groaned. 

"Wash!" 

She  was  so  near  now  that  he  fancied  he  could  discern 
the  whiteness  of  her  form  in  the  darkness.  He  was 
trembling  violently. 

"  You've  got  to  swar  what  I  tell  you, —  to  swar  hit, 
and  keep  to  hit,"  she  continued,  in  the  same  low, 
thrilling  tone. 


VISITING   THE   SIN  331 

"  I  will,"  he  said  humbly. 

"  You've  harboured  hatred  in  your  heart  agin  Marshall 
Rutherford,"  she  went  on.  "  You  tried  to  murder  him. 
You've  got  to  swar  that  you'll  stand  between  him  and 
evil  all  the  days  of  your  life." 

«  I  cain't." 

He  struggled  to  rise,  to  protest,  to  do  anything  to  free 
himself  from  this  unwelcome  compulsion. 

"You've  got  to,"  persisted  the  girl.  "Wash  Fore- 
hand, you  cain't  he'p  yourself.  You  done  blowed  up 
that  rock  and  left  me  in  thar  to  die.  You  cain't  stand 
aout  agin  me-e." 

He  knew  it.  The  resistless  power  of  a  guilty  con- 
science brought  home  to  him  every  word  that  voice 
uttered.  The  strange  presence  was  so  near  to  him  now 
that  it  seemed  almost  by  his  side.  By  a  great  effort  he 
got  on  his  feet,  and  stood  at  bay. 

"  I  warn't  aimin'  to  kill  you-u,"  he  said  hoarsely.  "  I 
couldn't  have  hurt  Norah.  I  loved  her." 

A  cold,  hard  laugh  rang  in  his  ears.  He  felt  a  chill 
hand  on  his. 

"  Love  don't  act  that  away.  Love  don't  hu-urt  :  hit 
he'ps." 

Wash  shrank  back  from  touch  and  words. 

"What  are  you?"  he  cried.  "You're  not  Norah. 
She  was  warm,  —  and  not  like  this." 

"  If  you  wanted  Norah,  what  did  you  kill  her  for  ?  " 


The  cry  was  bitter  enough  to  shake  the  girl  herself, 
though  she  had  steeled  herself  against  compassion. 
But  she  had  come  here  for  a  purpose,  and  it  should  not 
fail  of  accomplishment.  She  waited  a  moment,  and 
then  Wash  felt  that  cold  touch  again. 

"Swar,"  she  said.  "Swar  that  you'll  never  touch 
Marshall  Rutherford  or  Abner  to  du  them  hurt,  and  that 
if  ary  other  should  aim  to  hurt  them,  you'll  defend  them 
with  your  life.  Swar  hit,  Wash." 


332  VISITING   THE   SIN 

"Why?" 

"  Because  the  girl  you  done  shet  in  thar  to  die  tells 
you." 

Was  it  fear,  or  the  thrill  of  those  words  that  won  ? 
"  The  girl  he  had  shet  in  thar  to  die."  He  promised, — 
swore  as  solemnly  as  she  could  desire,  his  breath  coming 
in  quick  gasps  as  he  spoke  the  words. 

And  then  he  waited  for  the  next  development,  for  the 
repetition  of  the  touch  or  the  voice.  He  waited  in  vain. 
He  was  alone  in  the  cave. 

It  was  long  after  those  last  words  had  been  spoken 
when  Wash  gathered  together  his  scattered  senses  and 
felt  for  the  lantern.  He  lit  it  again,  and  looked  about 
him.  The  cave  was  empty.  The  blood  from  his  wound 
had  trickled  down  upon  his  face  and  his  clothing,  and 
he  trembled  in  every  limb.  Nevertheless  he  turned 
again  to  his  task. 

"  I'm  goin'  through  that  thar  rock,"  he  said.  "  I'm 
goin'  through,  and  I'm  goin'  to  bury  her." 

He  shuddered,  and  went  wearily  out  from  among  the 
rocks  to  look  for  his  shovel. 

And  while  he  worked  and  trembled,  the  girl  whose 
dead  body  he  was  expecting  to  find  behind  that  barrier 
was  back  in  safety  at  the  cottage.  She  was  divesting 
herself  of  her  outer  clothing. 

"  He's  done  promised,  mammy,"  she  said.  "  He'll 
keep  to  hit.  He's  swore  to  hit,  and  he's  scart  to  death." 

There  was  no  laughter  in  her  eyes  now.  There  had 
been  when  she  started  for  the  cave. 

"  Hit  hain't  payin',  honey,"  said  Mrs.  Felps,  when  she 
had  heard  the  story. 

"  No,  mammy." 

The  girl  stooped  suddenly,  and  kissed  the  little 
woman's  forehead.  Then  she  went  into  the  other  room, 
and  a  pair  of  blue  eyes  brightened  as  she  crossed  it. 

"Hit's  better  than  powders  to  see  you  agin,"    said 


VISITING   THE    SIN  333 

Marshall  Rutherford.  "I  came  near  having  a  backset 
when  I  found  you'd  given  yourself  over  to  the  tender 
mercies  of  Big  Creek  Gap  after  dark." 

There  was  an  intonation  of  the  voice  that  struck 
pleasantly  on  the  girl's  ear, —  an  intonation  that  yet  lin- 
gered in  the  memory  of  Naomi  Mozingo,  and  would  by 
no  means  be  put  out  of  her  life. 

"  Thar  warn't  no  fear,"  replied  Norah,  a  soft  tinge  of 
colour  illuminating  her  face. 

The  eyes  that  did  not  seek  that  face  with  pleasure 
would  have  been  strangely  wanting  in  taste.  Judging 
by  his  next  words,  which  sounded  irrelevant,  but  were 
prompted  by  a  very  logical  sequence  of  ideas,  Marshall 
Rutherford's  taste  was  not  open  to  criticism. 

"  I  was  in  luck  when  you  brought  me  here,"  he  said, 
and  the  smile  gave  emphasis  to  the  words. 


334  VISITING  THE   SIN 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

PERSECUTION  of  the  Poteet  family  had  reached 
the  point  at  which  reaction  begins.  There  is  a 
pendulum-like  movement  in  strong  public  feeling, 
that  in  the  case  of  any  abnormal  outward  sweep  causes 
it  to  swing  back  when  the  extreme  point  has  been 
reached.  That  extreme  point  was  reached  when  Mar- 
shall Lane  Rutherford  was  —  or  was  supposed  to  be  — 
carried  away  by  his  enemies.  For  a  time  the  more 
violent  section  exulted  over  the  completeness  of  their 
victory.  It  is  hardly  necessary  to  record  that  Will  Hol- 
lingsworth  was  at  the  head  of  the  triumphant  party. 
When  Will  heard  of  the  night  exploit,  he  clapped  the 
newsmonger  on  the  back. 

«  Well  done  for  Big  Creek  Gap ! "  he  said.  "  There's 
public  spirit  left  there  yet." 

He  went  about  the  mill  with  the  glow  of  exultation  in 
his  heart. 

"  He's  counted  aout,"  he  mentally  commented.  "  A 
feller  who  could  stand  tha-at,  and  come  through  alive, 
would  be  a  wonder." 

He  felt  now  that  Naomi  was  almost  within  his  grasp. 
The  girl  had  proved  elusive  since  Dalbert's  departure. 
The  mill  owner  found  himself  relegated  to  the  rank  of 
the  other  residents  of  the  boarding-house.  The  position 
pleased  him  ill.  To  all  appearance,  Naomi  wished  it  to 
be  understood  that  she  regarded  him  rather  in  the  light 
of  her  brother's  friend  than  as  peculiarly  her  own.  At 
Dalbert's  departure  she  had  drawn  back  from  the  close 
intimacy  she  had  formerly  allowed  him.  He  took  the 
change  quietly,  but  he  resented  it. 


VISITING   THE    SIN  335 

Naomi  had  installed  an  elderly  woman  in  the  kitchen, 
and  the  new  arrangement  gave  her  time  to  go  abroad. 
She  availed  herself  of  the  freedom,  and  Will  saw  little  of 
her.  He  did  not  fail  to  attribute  the  change  in  her 
manner  to  her  feelings  respecting  Marshall  Rutherford. 
Hence  his  delight  at  Marshall's  removal. 

He  was  in  no  hurry  to  communicate  the  intelligence 
to  Naomi.  He  rightly  judged  that  its  immediate  effect 
would  be  an  increase  of  coolness  on  the  girl's  part.  He 
contented  himself  with  more  pointed  attentions,  that 
Naomi  noticed  and  promptly  snubbed.  There  had 
come  into  his  bearing  an  air  of  proprietorship  for  which 
she  was  at  a  loss  to  account,  but  which  she  found  de- 
cidedly irritating.  His  attentions  had  of  late  grown  dis- 
tasteful to  her.  The  link  of  comradeship  that  had  for- 
merly drawn  her  and  Will  Hollingsworth  together  had 
snapped.  She  was  not  one  with  him  in  his  steadily 
hostile  pursuit  of  Marshall  Rutherford.  She  did  not 
deny  —  even  to  herself  —  that  the  warfare  had  been  un- 
dertaken at  her  instigation.  She  had  no  right  to 
blame  Will  for  carrying  out  the  principles  she  had  her- 
self inculcated,  but  she  did  blame  him.  Her  mental 
attitude  towards  him  had  become  antagonistic.  She  was 
ready  to  resent  any  undue  aggression  on  his  part.  He 
partially  understood,  and  he  smiled  and  bided  his  time. 
She  did  not  know  all  that  he  knew. 

There  came  a  day  when  she  learned  some  of  it.  She 
had  been  to  the  village,  and  she  came  back  with  a 
bright  spot  burning  on  either  cheek. 

This  should  surely  have  been  the  moment  of  her  tri- 
umph. She  had  long  ago  set  herself  to  educate  public 
opinion  in  Big  Creek  Gap  to  the  point  of  driving  out 
from  the  precincts  of  the  village  every  representative 
of  the  household  of  Poteet.  To-day  she  had  learned 
that  one  representative  had  been  violently  thrust  forth. 
The  other  was  already  very  much  of  an  outcast.  There 


336  VISITING   THE    SIN 

should  have  been  little  more  for  her  to  desire.  But 
the  colour  that  burned  on  the  girl's  cheeks  had  not  its 
source  in  satisfaction. 

It  was  outside  the  house  that  she  met  Will  Hollings- 
worth.  He  looked  for  her  to  pass  him  without  a  word, 
as  she  had  done  not  seldom  of  late,  but  she  stopped  full 
in  his  path. 

"  I  wish  you  all  the  joy  you  deserve  of  your  last  ex- 
ploit," she  said,  looking  him  fairly  in  the  face. 

Will  laughed. 

"  So  that's  the  lay  of  the  land,  is  it  ?  "  he  commented 
to  himself.  Aloud  he  replied  :  "  Oh,  it's  no  doing  of 
mine.  A  little  personal  matter  on  the  part  of  Wash 
Forehand.  Didn't  enjoy  seeing  his  girl  fall  a  victim  to 
Marshall's  beguiling  eyes." 

He  watched  her  closely,  but  she  showed  no  sign  that 
the  words  went  home. 

"Wash  carried  it  aout ;  but  who  put  Wash  up  to  it  ? " 
she  asked  quietly. 

Will  laughed  again. 

"It  shows  you've  got  a  plumb  zealous  servant,  that's 
about  all  there  is  in  it,"  he  said  lightly.  "  We  set  aout 
—  you  and  I  —  to  make  this  valley  too  hot  to  hold  a 
Poteet,  or  ary  relation  of  the  Poteets.  Well  —  it's  get- 
ting warm  for  them  now." 

It  was  the  first  time  he  had  put  the  connection  be- 
tween them  into  words,  and  definitely  claimed  her  as  the 
instigator  of  all  his  deeds.  He  saw  the  fire  in  her  eyes 
before  he  had  finished  speaking. 

"  We-e  set  aout ! "  she  said,  slowly  and  scornfully. 
"I'm  not  aimin'  to  be  classed  with  a  coward." 

Her  lip  curled,  and  her  eyes  were  scorching  in  their 
scornful  gaze. 

"That's  a  trade-last  not  likely  to  be  forgotten,"  he 
said,  using  the  local  term  for  compliment  with  a  signifi- 
cance that  was  not  lost  upon  her. 


VISITING   THE    SIN  337 

"  When  you  see  me  getting  together  six  strong  fellers 
to  help  me  oust  one  dying  man,  you  may  return  it,"  she 
said.  "  Didn't  it  strike  you  there  was  a  lit-tle  dispropor- 
tion between  the  attackers  and  the  attacked  ?  Big 
Creek  Gap  is  shouting  *  Glory ! '  over  its  achievement. 
When  one  of  you,  single-handed,  vanquishes  six,  come 
to  me  for  applause ;  but  when  six  of  you  set  on  one,  don't 
ask  me  to  call  your  deed  by  any  other  name  than  it 
deserves." 

She  passed  him  and  swept  into  the  house.  And  for 
many  days  after  he  found  no  opportunity  for  word  with 
her  except  when  others  were  present. 

In  Big  Creek  Gap  the  pendulum  had  swung  high,  but 
already  there  was  sign  of  a  turn.  There  were  men  and 
women  who  remembered  Marshall  Rutherford's  pleasant 
smile,  and  declared  that  "  hit  was  a  sha-ame  to  treat  him 
that  away."  Their  numbers  were  increased  when  the 
days  passed,  and  no  tidings  of  the  sick  man  were  forth- 
coming. Then  there  came  a  new  development. 

"  Mammy,"  said  Norah,  coming  in  hastily  one  after- 
noon, "John  Kisselbaugh's  done  got  the  small-pox.  I 
beared  his  Sally  tell  abaout  hit  in  the  village.  The 
doctor  says  thar  hain't  nary  doubt." 

Mrs.  Felps  looked  up  into  her  daughter's  face. 

"  Lor  naow !  hain't  hit  a  si-ight  ? "  she  said.  "  They- 
uns  set  aout  to  protect  themselves  ;  and  thar  hain't  neither 
of  we-uns  got  hit  yit,  and  John's  tuk.  Lor  me !  " 

"Hit  serves  John  Kisselbaugh  plumb  ri-ight,"  declared 
many  a  voice  in  Big  Creek,  when  it  was  known  that  the 
man  who  had  tried  to  "  protect  himself  agin  Marshall " 
was  stricken  down  with  the  disease.  "  He  should  'a 
stayed  at  home,  and  left  Marshall  alone." 

From  the  first  the  complaint  took  a  strong  hold  of 
John's  muscular  frame. 

"  He  hain't  goin'  to  git  better,"  said  the  old  doctor 
bluntly. 


338  VISITING   THE    SIN 

John  Kisselbaugh  made  no  gentle  patient.  He  had 
been  fierce  in  health.  When  delirium  seized  him,  those 
about  him  trembled.  His  wife  and  children  watched 
him  in  fear,  and  everybody  else  refused  to  come  near 
him.  Oaths  loud  and  blood-curdling  poured  from  his 
lips.  The  air  around  the  cabin  was  tainted  with  disease 
and  laden  with  blasphemy. 

It  was  when  his  wife  had  for  two  days  and  nights 
watched  by  his  side  that  she  lay  down  and  slept  the 
deep  sleep  of  exhaustion.  She  did  not  hear  his  curses, 
nor  know  that  with  a  single  blow  he  felled  the  child  who 
was  in  attendance  upon  him,  and  left  her  senseless  on 
the  floor.  She  did  not  know  that  he  started  in  wild 
frenzy  for  the  barn,  nor  hear  the  frantic  jumping  and 
plunging  of  the  mules  beneath  the  cruel  torture  of  his 
big  whip.  It  was  not  until  he  had  fairly  maddened 
them,  and  had  brought  them  trembling  and  terrified  out 
of  the  barn,  that  a  little  shrieking  voice  awoke  the  ex- 
hausted woman. 

"  Mammy,  mammy,  wake  up !  Pappy 's  killin'  the 
mules ! " 

They  were  already  in  the  wagon  when  the  frightened 
woman  sprang  from  her  bed,  and  rushed  out  into  the 
yard. 

"  John  !  John  !  What  are  you  thinkin'  abaout  ?  " 
she  remonstrated.  "You'll  ketch  your  death.  Come 
back  to  bed." 

He  struck  at  her  with  his  long  whip.  The  blood 
followed  the  lash  where  it  touched  her  face.  The  next 
stroke  fell  upon  the  mules.  John  was  in  the  wagon. 

•'  John  ! "  cried  the  terrified  woman  again,  forgetting 
her  pain  in  her  fear. 

But  he  was  gone,  the  mules  racing  and  kicking  as  he 
plied  the  whip,  and  he  himself  standing  in  the  front  of 
the  wagon.  She  ran  a  few  steps  after  him,  and  then 
sat  down  on  the  ground  and  cried  helplessly. 


VISITING   THE    SIN  339 

The  sun  had  set,  and  darkness  was  creeping  over  the 
valley.  One  or  two  people  on  the  valley  road  heard  the 
mules  go  thundering  by,  and  ran  out  as  the  crack  of  the 
whip  sounded  clear  and  vindictive. 

"  Hit's  John  Kisselbaugh  !     Lor  !  the  man's  crazy." 

The  mules  were  seen  to  turn  up  the  road  to  the  mill, 
but  nobody  saw  them  when  they  swerved  aside  and  left 
the  bed  of  the  stream,  maddened  now  beyond  control. 
Nobody  saw  them  gallop  up  the  steep  path  above  the 
mill,  and  nobody  heard  the  succession  of  cruel  cuts 
which  put  the  animals  past  the  exercise  of  that  sagacity 
which  on  ordinary  occasions  would  have  led  them  to 
shun  danger.  There  came  a  moment  when  the  wagon 
swayed  and  swung  upon  the  very  edge  of  the  precipi- 
tous hill,  and  another  when  the  mules  gave  their  last 
jump, —  a  jump  to  the  bottom. 

It  was  picked  up  the  same  night, —  the  shattered,  dis- 
figured body  of  the  man  who  had  let  the  brute  force  in 
him  grow  to  its  fullest  stature.  Beside  him  lay  the  dead 
mules.  They  would  tremble  no  more  at  the  sound  of 
his  footstep. 

"  Hit  looks  plumb  like  a  judgment,  don't  hit  ? "  said 
Big  Creek  Gap. 

And  John  Kisselbaugh's  fate  helped  to  send  the  pen- 
dulum swinging  back. 

There  were  no  more  cases  of  small-pox.  The  disease 
appeared  to  have  spent  itself  in  that  bold  attack  on  the 
man  who  had  been  the  most  determined  of  them  all  to 
defend  himself  at  the  sacrifice  of  the  life  of  another. 

The  death  of  John  Kisselbaugh  occurred  more  than  a 
week  after  the  day  when  Wash  Forehand  set  himself  to 
remove  the  rock  masses  he  had  taken  such  pains  to 
bring  down.  When  he  staggered  out  of  the  cave  in  the 
early  moments  of  the  dawn  that  followed  the  evening 
on  which  Norah's  accusing  voice  struck  terror  to  his 
conscience,  he  looked  round  upon  the  world  where  the 


340  VISITING   THE    SIN 

light  of  a  fresh  day's  hope  was  breaking,  with  wild,  un- 
accustomed eyes.  He  felt  as  if  he  had  been  dead  and 
buried.  An  eternity  of  misery  had  been  compressed 
into  the  twenty-odd  hours  passed  in  the  damp,  chill 
gloom  of  the  cave. 

He  had  fought  his  way  through  the  opposing  rock, 
and  come  at  last  into  the  prison  chamber  beyond, — 
come  into  it  and  stood  trembling,  afraid  to  lift  the  lan- 
tern lest  its  light  should  fall  on  the  dead  face  of  the  girl 
he  loved.  It  seemed  to  him  that  it  was  hours  before  he 
summoned  enough  courage  to  approach  the  bed,  over 
which  he  had  bent  in  a  frenzy  of  passion  a  few  days 
ago.  It  was  empty.  He  hardly  knew  why  he  was  sur- 
prised. Norah  would  not  lie  there  quietly  to  die.  She 
would  fight  madly,  desperately,  against  death,  and 
against  those  great  masses  of  rock, —  fight  as  he  had 
fought  to  get  in  to  her.  He  should  find  her  in  some 
remote  corner,  whither  she  had  rushed  at  last  in  her 
desperation.  How  close  the  atmosphere  was,  even  with 
the  passage  partially  open,  allowing  an  inrush  of  freer 
air  from  the  opening  of  the  cave.  It  was  a  cruel  death. 

He  no  longer  called  upon  the  girl  by  name.  Since 
that  accusing  presence  had  confronted  him,  he  had  not 
doubted  that  she  was  dead.  He  searched  the  chamber 
thoroughly.  There  was  much  water  in  it.  Rain  had 
fallen  since  he  sealed  up  that  prison.  The  stream  was 
swollen.  He  was  surprised  to  see  that  it  had  over- 
flowed its  usual  channel,  and  filled  the  lower  part  of  the 
chamber.  It  did  not  occur  to  him  that  it  had  been 
turned  from  its  course.  It  was  flowing  down  into  the 
hole  as  freely  now  as  if  it  had  never  known  change. 
Its  volume  brought  to  him  a  new  terror. 

"  She's  done  got  drowned,"  he  said.  "  She  hain't 
here.  She  done  wandered  thar  when  the  air  got  too 
bad  to  breathe,  and  tumbled  in  and  got  carried  away. 
Thar  warn't  no  light." 


VISITING   THE   SIN  341 

He  searched  the  deep  pools,  and  convinced  himself 
that  Norah's  body  was  not  in  the  cave.  Then  he  re- 
turned to  the  side  of  the  bed,  and  sat  down  upon  it. 

"  I  was  a  plumb  fool,"  he  groaned.  "  I  couldn't  never 
'a  done  no  good  that  away." 

He  sat  long,  staring  into  the  darkness.  Thoughts  of 
a  young  life  destroyed  from  off  the  earth  wandered 
through  his  brain.  Suddenly  the  memory  of  the  girl's 
face,  as  he  had  seen  it  many  a  day,  came  to  him  with 
overpowering  vividness.  The  pity  and  injustice  of  this 
unmerited  death  forced  itself  upon  him  for  recognition. 
A  yearning  for  the  girl  he  had  left  here  to  die  seized 
him  irresistibly. 

"  Norah,  Norah,  I  was  a  plumb  fool !  O  Norah,  my 
girl!" 

Heavy  sobs  shook  the  bed.  The  passion  that  before 
had  spent  itself  in  fury  took  the  form  of  grief.  The 
young  man  writhed  and  trembled  beneath  it.  He  won- 
dered in  hopeless  sorrow  how  he  could  ever  have  been 
so  mad  as  to  do  that  which  had  made  this  moment  pos- 
sible. When  the  paroxysm  had  spent  itself  he  got  up 
and  staggered  out  into  the  dawning  light.  There  was 
no  light  left  in  the  world  for  him. 

The  wish  to  injure  Marshall  Rutherford  had  left  him. 
Every  thought  was  swallowed  up  in  one  burning  desire 
that  the  past  could  be  undone. 

He  did  not  expect  to  meet  any  of  his  neighbours.  He 
had  a  vague  purpose  of  reaching  his  own  barn  before  the 
world  was  stirring,  and  of  flinging  himself  down  among 
the  corn-stalks  to  rest.  A  deadly  weariness  had  seized 
him.  He  staggered  forward  with  that  one  object  set 
before  him.  There  was  no  hope  in  the  future,  no  peace 
in  the  world  for  him  ;  but  there  was  a  place  to  rest  in, 
back  in  the  mow  above  the  heads  of  his  mules.  Just 
now  that  place  of  rest  was  the  one  suggestion  of  hope  in 
the  universe. 


342  VISITING   THE    SIN 

He  did  not  know  what  a  sorry  object  he  made,  even 
in  this  half-light.  The  blood  from  the  wound  on  his 
forehead  had  trickled  down  his  face,  and  caught  and  im- 
prisoned there  the  particles  of  dust  and  rock  that  his 
violent  exertions  had  set  flying  around  him.  When  dry, 
the  mixture  gave  a  terrible  appearance  to  a  face  that  was 
wild  with  grief  and  despair,  and  haggard  with  weariness. 
It  was  no  wonder  that  Abner  Poteet  stopped,  and  looked 
upon  such  an  apparition  in  surprise.  Wash  was  past 
noticing  that  Abner's  face  wore  a  look  he  had  never 
seen  there  before. 

"  Wash  Forehand,  is  hit  misfortune  or  sin  that's  set 
hit's  mark  on  you  ? "  Abner  asked  solemnly. 

"  Sin,"  replied  Wash,  in  a  hard,  expressionless  tone. 

They  had  met  upon  the  valley  road.  Both  turned 
across  the  grass  land  that  led  to  the  cottages  under  the 
mountain. 

"Whar  are  you  goin'  at  this  time  o'  day?"  asked 
Wash  irritably. 

It  was  an  added  burden  to  be  forced  to  collect  his 
senses  and  speak  rationally. 

Abner  hesitated  a  moment. 

"  Thar's  only  one  house  this  away  whar  I  should  be 
welcome,"  he  said  after  that  momentary  pause. 

The  answer  was  not  quite  like  Abner.  Was  there  some 
subtle  change  at  work  within  him  to-day  ?  Wash  turned 
upon  him. 

"  Goin'  to  he'p  nurse  Marshall  Rutherford,  or  to  see 
if  thar's  ary  tidin's  of  Norah  ? "  he  asked,  with  an  un- 
steady laugh. 

Abner  stopped  short. 

"  Who  told  you  ary  word  abaout  Marshall  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  She  did." 

"  Norah  ? " 

A  loud  laugh  rang  across  the  lowland. 

"Olor!  Norah!" 


VISITING   THE    SIN  343 

Again  came  the  wild  laugh.  Wash  had  lost  control 
of  himself. 

"Wash  Forehand,"  said  Ab,  "you're  either  drunk  or 
crazy." 

"  I'm  crazy,"  was  the  reply, —  "  plumb  crazy.  Norah  ! 
My  lor ! " 

"  What's  made  you  crazy  ?  What  ails  you  ? "  de- 
manded Ab. 

"  Go  and  ask  her, —  Norah's  mammy ! " 

Abner  stopped  short.     He  understood  now. 

"  Have  you  seen  her  ? " 

"Yes. 

"When?" 

"I  hain't  sure,"  said  Wash  unsteadily.  "Hit  was  in 
the  mornin'." 

"Whar  have  you  been  since?" 

"  In  the  cave." 

Abner  understood  fully.  Some  strange  peace  must 
surely  have  been  working  within  him,  or  he  would  not 
have  been  talking  thus  quietly  with  the  man  who  had 
planned  his  cousin's  death  and  almost  accomplished  that 
of  Norah. 

"  Whar  you  tuk  —  Norah  ? "  he  said. 

He  was  standing  in  front  of  the  other.  Wash  put  up 
his  hands  to  push  him  aside. 

"Git  aout  o'  my  way,"  he  said.  "I  tell  you  I'm 
crazy." 

"  What  did  you  go  thar  for  ? " 

Abner  had  not  stirred. 

Suddenly  Wash  darted  aside,  and  passed  him.  Then 
he  turned  his  head. 

"She's  dead,  Ab,— dead!"  he  cried.  "No  good 
hangin*  round  thar  ary  longer." 

He  hurried  away,  and  Abner  did  not  attempt  to  fol- 
low him.  He  stood  quite  still  in  the  midst  of  the  damp 
grass.  Was  he  struggling  with  himself  ? 


344  VISITING   THE    SIN 

"Wash,  go  and  see  her  agin, —  Norah's  mammy.  Go 
and  talk  to  her" 

The  words  reached  far.  They  fell  on  the  ears  of  the 
young  man  who  was  stumbling  despairingly  homeward. 
He  kept  on  desperately.  The  words  were  ringing  in  his 
brain.  "Go  and  talk  to  her."  What  for?  He  wanted 
to  get  away.  There  was  the  barn  and  the  hay-mow  to 
be  reached.  But  between  him  and  that  refuge  had  come 
the  thought  of  Norah's  mother.  Reproach,  denuncia- 
tion, and  possible  arrest  were  in  that  direction.  But 
she  was  Norah's  mother.  The  face  of  the  older  woman 
was  wonderfully  like  that  of  the  girl.  Now  that  the 
suggestion  had  entered  his  head,  he  was  constrained  to 
see  that  face  again.  "  Go  and  talk  to  her."  What 
about  ? 

The  two  men  were  waiting  together  before  the  door 
when  the  sun's  first  rays  dropped  into  the  valley. 
Neither  spoke ;  but  Abner  turned  his  face  to  the  light, 
and  Wash  hid  his  from  it.  And  standing  thus,  they 
waited  till  the  household  was  astir. 

"  Mercy  sakes  !  " 

Mrs.  Felps  stood  in  the  doorway  and  looked  at  her 
two  visitors.  In  either  face  she  found  something  un- 
usual. Both  men  were  looking  down  at  her.  There 
was  a  light  in  Abner 's  eyes  that  she  had  never  seen 
there  before.  Had  he  wreaked  his  vengeance  on  Wash 
Forehand,  and  brought  him  here  forcibly,  to  demonstrate 
his  victory  ?  Hardly,  though  Wash  looked  as  if  some- 
body had  handled  him  roughly.  The  light  in  Abner's 
eyes  had  no  passion  in  it. 

"  Thar's  her  mammy.  You  better  talk  to  her.  Sin's 
enough  to  drive  ary  man  crazy  if  he  shets  hit  up  in  his 
heart." 

Abner  passed  the  little  woman  as  he  spoke,  and  went 
into  the  house. 

"I'm  goin'  to  set  with  Marshall,"  he  said. 


VISITING  THE    SIN  345 

Mrs.  Felps  was  studying  the  face  of  the  young  man 
by  the  door.  Slowly  she  read  in  it  some  of  the  story  of 
those  twenty  hours  spent  in  the  cave. 

"  Wash  Forehand,  hit  hain't  payin ',"  she  said  at  last. 

"  Payin' ! "  Wash  looked  at  her  wildly.  "  Lor !  hit's 
payin'  a  right  smart,"  he  said,  a  harsh  laugh  again  com- 
ing from  his  lips.  "Hit  pays  with  a  grip  on  a  man's 
heart  and  a  stunnin'  blow  at  his  brain.  Payin' !  Mercy ! 
hit's  paid  till  I'm  plumb  crazy." 

He  staggered,  and  pulled  himself  up  against  the  door- 
post. 

Mrs.  Felps  looked  at  him  fixedly. 

"  You  warn't  thinkin'  o'  that  sort  o'  pay  when  you 
started  aout,  Wash,"  she  said. 

"  Thinkin' !  "  he  retorted.  "  I  warn't  thinkin'  at  all. 
I  was  broodin'  over  his  hevin'  all  the  chances  with  Norah. 
I  was  crazy  then.  I  cain't  tell  what  I  am  now.  What 
are  you  standin'  starin'  at  me  as  still  as  that  for  ?  I've 
killed  her!  Don't  you  hear?  She  hain't  thar.  I've 
done  unblocked  the  cave,  and  she's  gone.  She's  dead ! " 

"  Come  in  and  set  daown,"  said  Mrs.  Felps  perempto- 
rily. "You're  staggerin'." 

"  I  hain't  drunk,"  he  said.     "  I'm  crazy." 

But  he  came  in,  and  dropped  on  the  nearest  chair. 
Standing  was  becoming  a  difficulty, 

"No,  she  hairit  thar,"  said  the  little  woman  quietly. 
"  You  cain't  du  what  you  promised, —  you  cain't  make  the 
loss  good  to  me.  You  cain't  give  me  back  my  girl. 
You  done  barred  your  heart  agin  compassion,  and  that 
hard  heart  set  all  hit's  hardness  agin  he-er, —  my  girl. 
Hit  warn't  her  you  was  atter  hurtin',  but  you  was  a 
murderer  at  heart,  and  hit  was  a  judgment  agin  you 
that  your  hardness  tuk  effect  on  her.  Hit  hain't  your 
fault  I  hain't  broken-hdarted  to-day." 

"  What  ?     Say  hit  agin  !  " 

He  had  sprung  up,  and  was  standing  before  her. 


346  VISITING   THE   SIN 

She  looked  into  that  eager,  working  face,  and  her 
judicial  severity  softened. 

"Wash  Forehand,"  she  said,  "you  might  'a  been  a 
murderer,  you  would  'a  been  if  Ab  hadn't "  — 

The  sentence  was  not  finished.  The  inner  door 
opened,  and  a  girl  stood  within  the  room.  He  turned, 
and  saw  her.  His  lips  parted,  but  no  word  came  from 
them. 

"Wash  Forehand,"  said  Norah,  more  than  half  soft- 
ened by  the  sorry  spectacle  before  her,  "  I  hain't  dead ; 
and  you're  only  a  murderer  in  your  heart.  You're  a 
murderer  thar  right  enough.  But  you've  got  to  keep 
that  vow  you  made,  and  keep  hit  the  straightest  way." 

"I  will,"  he  said  humbly.  "Norah,  I  thought  I'd 
killed  you." 

"No,"  replied  the  girl,  "you  shet  me  in,  and  come 
mighty  nigh  killin'  me.  You  might  'a  done  hit,  but  you 
didn't.  You  hain't  killed  me,  but  thar's  one  thing  you 
hev  killed.  You've  done  killed  the  good  feelin'  that  was 
between  you  and  me  plumb  dead.  We  was  friends :  we 
hain't  goin'  to  be  enemies.  I  hain't  goin'  to  harbour  no 
grudge  agin  you.  I've  seen  the  evil  of  grudges  ;  and  if 
I  hadn't, —  you've  got  a  powerful  sight  the  worst  of  hit. 
But  you've  done  killed  the  friendship,  Wash.  You  go 
home,  and  go  to  sleep.  You're  plumb  played  out." 

He  did  not  think  of  resisting.  He  listened  to  her 
like  one  stupefied.  Then  he  staggered  to  the  door,  stood 
with  it  in  his  hand  while  his  eyes  took  one  long  hungry 
look  at  her  face,  and  went  out. 

"Mammy,"  said  Norah,  "thar's  something  wrong 
with  Ab." 

"  Wrong,  honey  ? "  was  the  answer.  "  I  hain't  sure. 
Thar's  a  change,  but  hit  don't  look  wrong  to  me." 

"  Come  and  see,"  said  the  girl. 

He  was  in  Marshall's  room,  and  he  was  talking  ear- 
nestly. There  was  an  urgent  tone  in  his  voice  that  was 


VISITING  THE   SIN  347 

not  often  heard  there.  Marshall's  face  wore  a  look  of 
perplexity  and  distress. 

"  Let  hit  rest,  Ab,"  he  said,  as  mother  and  daughter 
entered. 

Abner  turned  to  meet  them.  He  took  both  the  girl's 
hands  in  his,  and  looked  into  her  eyes. 

"  Thar  hain't  no  danger  to  you  in  hit  naow,"  he  said. 
"  The  visitin's  plumb  near  hit's  end." 

"I  never  felt  in  much  danger  —  from  you,"  she  re- 
plied, with  a  little,  uncertain  laugh. 

She  was  conscious  of  a  pair  of  blue  eyes  that  were 
fixed  upon  them  both,  but  she  could  not  hurt  Abner  by 
withdrawing  her  hands. 

"I  came  to  tell  you,"  he  said, — "you  and  Marshall." 

He  let  the  hands  go,  and  moved  a  step  away.  Stand- 
ing there  by  the  window,  his  rugged,  sensitive  face  lit 
up  by  the  morning  light,  he  told  it, —  the  strange  thing 
that  was  accountable  for  the  peace  which  possessed 
him. 

"I  couldn't  wait  longer  'n  daylight  to  tell  hit,"  he 
said ;  "  and,  beside,  hit  seems  short, —  the  time  that's  left 
to  me  to  talk  to  you  and  Norah.  Two  months  hain't 
long." 

His  face  had  grown  wistful  as  he  turned  it  towards 
Mrs.  Felps. 

"  Long  for  what  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  To  live  the  rest  of  my  life,"  he  said  simply,  "  and 
to  bear  the  rest  of  the  visitin'." 

"  What  do  you  mean,  Ab  Poteet  ? "  questioned  Mrs. 
Felps. 

"  Hit  come  to  me  last  night,"  he  replied.  "  Hit  was 
past  midnight,  and  I  was  asleep.  I  was  dreamin'  of 
Norah,  when  all  at  onct  I  heard  the  hoof-beats  of  a 
horse.  They  wasn't  loud  at  fust,  but  they  come  nearer 
and  nearer ;  and  they  got  so  loud  they  plumb  filled  my 
ears,  so  I  couldn't  hear  nothin'  else.  They  stopped 


348  VISITING   THE   SIN 

afore  my  door,  and  hit  seemed  to  me  I  got  up  and 
opened  hit.  Thar  was  a  rider  thar  on  a  white  horse,  a 
powerful  handsome  horse.  But  when  I  looked  from  the 
horse  to  him  that  rode  on  hit,  I  had  nary  thought  for 
the  animal  agin.  I  hadn't  no  mind  to  ask  him  whar  he 
come  from.  I  knowed  he  didn't  start  from  nowhars  on 
this  earth.  'I've  got  a  proclamation  to  read  to  you, 
Abner  Poteet,'  he  says ;  and  his  voice  someway s  thrilled 
me  through. 

"  I  warn't  afraid.  I  was  listenin'  breathless.  Then 
he  opened  a  paper  he  was  carryin',  and  begun  to  read. 
Hit  was  solemn  and  grand.  The  sound  of  his  voice 
made  the  words  not  like  any  others.  I  could  'a  listened 
to  that  voice  for  ever.  The  words  hev  gone  from  me, 
but  the  sense  of  them  hain't.  They  said  that  the  visitin' 
of  the  sins  of  the  fathers  on  the  children  had  been 
a-goin'  on  upon  me,  and  that  that  thar  visitin'  was  al- 
most completed.  I  seed  the  eyes  of  him  that  read 
look  kindly  at  me  when  he  spoke  them  words.  '  Thar's 
one  more  stroke  to  fall  yit,'  he  said ;  and  he  said  hit  sor- 
rerfully. 

"  Then  he  went  on  to  read,  and  afore  he'd  read  fur 
I  knowed  that  my  time  was  come.  '  Two  months  from 
to-night  the  soul  of  Abner  Poteet  is  demanded  of  him,' 
he  read.  'On  that  night  the  messenger  will  knock 
upon  the  door,  and  Abner  Poteet  is  hereby  called  upon 
to  answer  the  knock.' 

"  Then  he  folded  up  the  paper,  and  looked  daown  at 
me.  I  warn't  fearin'  nothin'.  His  eyes  were  kind,  as 
if  they  would  encourage  me.  And  with  that  look  he 
turned  away,  and  I  heared  the  hoof-beats  of  his  horse 
gittin'  further  and  further  away.  I  couldn't  see  either 
the  horse  or  the  rider.  The  darkness  had  swallered 
them  up. 

"  It  seemed  to  me  I  come  back  into  the  house.  I  was 
layin'  in  my  bed  when  I  opened  my  eyes.  I  didn't  sleep 


VISITING   THE   SIN  349 

no  more.  I  knowed  my  time  was  come,  and  as  soon  as 
the  day  begun  to  break  I  started  to  tell  you.  The 
visitin's  nearly  finished." 

A  smile  of  peace  was  on  his  face.  The  "  visiting  " 
had  been  very  real  to  him. 

During  all  the  recital  no  one  had  interrupted  him. 
So  firm  a  hold  had  dream  warnings  upon  the  Southern 
imagination  that  not  one  of  Abner's  hearers  questioned 
the  finality  of  the  verdict. 

"  You  hain't  afraid,  Abner  ? "  questioned  Mrs.  Felps. 

The  little  woman's  voice  was  awed. 

"  No,  I  hain't  afraid,"  said  Abner.  "  If  so  be  his  sins 
hain't  restin'  on  me,  I'm  hopin'  thar's  better  things 
ahead.  I  hain't  afraid,  and  I'm  glad  I  knowed.  Two 
months  hain't  long,  and  thar's  a  right  smart  o'  things  to 
be  done." 

He  was  looking  at  Norah.  The  girl  caught  the 
glance,  and  came  over  impulsively  to  his  side. 

"I  hain't  wantin'  to  part  with  you,  Ab,"  she  said, 
laying  a  small,  soft  hand  on  his. 

The  big,  strong  fingers  closed  over  it.  There  was 
a  sob  in  Abner's  throat. 

"  And  I  hain't  wantin'  to  leave  you-u,"  he  said.  "  But 
hit's  better  so.  Thar  won't  be  no  more  shadder  of 
danger  that  the  curse  should  touch  you  then.  Hit's 
done  been  visited  on  me." 

And  while  he  stayed  in  the  cottage,  talking  calmly  of 
the  future  when  he  should  not  be  there,  the  look  of 
peace  never  left  his  face. 

Both  Norah  and  her  mother  had  forgotten  Wash 
Forehand.  The  tidings  Ab  had  brought  were  too 
solemn  to  leave  room  for  passion  or  revenge.  They  did 
not,  at  the  time,  even  exult  over  the  young  man's  very 
just  punishment,  or  smile  at  the  remembrance  of  his 
defeat.  Not  so  the  world.  When  it  was  known  in  the 
community  —  and  it  was  not  known  in  a  hurry  —  that 


350  VISITING  THE    SIN 

six  men  had  taken  infinite  pains  to  remove  a  girl  whom 
they  had  no  desire  to  kidnap,  Big  Creek  laughed ;  and 
the  laugh  was  not  against  Norah  Felps.  The  pendulum 
was  swinging  back  fast. 


VISITING  THE   SIN  35* 


CHAPTER   XXIV 

"\T  THAR'S    Dal?" 

\/\/       The  speaker  stood  upon  the  steps  of  the 

*    *     boarding-house,  and  addressed   his  question 

towards  the  interior,  presumably  with  the  intent  that  it 

should  reach  the  ears  of  Naomi,  who  was  passing  across 

the  passage. 

She  turned  to  look  at  the  lank,  half-grown  boy  who 
held  himself  with  one  foot  on  the  top  step  and  the  other 
two  degrees  lower,  in  a  position  favourable  to  sudden 
withdrawal. 

"Why,  Lem!" 

She  came  swiftly  to  the  door. 

"  Where  did  you  come  from  ?  " 

"  Cedar  Fork,"  replied  the  boy,  with  a  grin. 

"You  did?     Afoot?" 

« I  reckon." 

She  laughed. 

"  Thought  you'd  come  visiting,  eh  ? " 

"  Visitin'  ! "  said  the  boy  contemptuously.  "  I  hain't 
tramped  from  thar  to  this  place  for  note." 

"  You've  done  left  your  mammy  ? "  asked  Naomi. 

"She's  married  another  feller.  I  hain't  wantin'  a 
new  pappy." 

The  sturdy  disapproval  in  the  boy's  eyes  brought  the 
light  of  a  laugh  to  those  of  the  girl.  Her  mouth  was 
grave,  however. 

"  What  are  you  aimin'  to  do  ? "  she  asked. 

"Work.  I'm  a  year  older  'n  I  was  when  he  went 
away.  I'm  aimin'  to  see  him,  and  git  work  at  the 
mill." 


352  VISITING   THE    SIN 

"  He  don't  run  the  mill  now,"  said  Naomi. 

The  boy  looked  at  her  incredulously.  Evidently  he 
did  not  entirely  believe  the  statement. 

"  Hain't  that  thar  mill  hisn  ? "  he  asked. 

"No." 

"  Don't  he  work  thar  ?  " 

"  No." 

"  What  are  you  doin'  here  then  ? " 

The  question  was  of  the  nature  of  a  thunder-clap. 
Naomi  had  to  recover  her  breath  before  she  answered  it. 
The  answer,  when  it  came,  was  only  a  low,  musical 
laugh. 

"  Whar  is  Dal  ?  "  demanded  the  boy. 

"  Upon  the  Ridges,  trying  his  hand  at  farming." 

"  Be  them  the  Ridges  ?  " 

He  pointed  to  the  hills  that  rose  within  the  broad 
sweep  enclosed  by  the  high  mountain  ranges. 

«  Yes." 

"  Which  away  is  hit  you've  got  to  go  to  come  to  his 
farm  ? " 

The  girl  laughed  again. 

"  You  are  in  a  hurry,"  she  said.  "  Come  in  and  have 
your  dinner.  The  men  have  just  gone." 

He  knew  that.  He  had  watched  them  go,  timing  his 
appearance  to  their  disappearance. 

"No,"  he  replied  emphatically,  "I'm  goin'  to  find 
Dal.  I  hain't  hungry." 

Which  was  not  literally  true.  A  growing  boy  must 
needs  be  hungry  when  he  has  eaten  nothing  since  the 
night  before,  and  noon  is  already  past. 

Lem  was  hungry,  but  not  half  as  hungry  as  the 
young  man  to  whom  he  was  going  to  be  fed.  Dai's 
hunger  was  three  days  old  already.  It  happened  on 
this  wise. 

Dalbert  had  been  down  into  the  valley  to  the  village 
store,  and  had  heard  there  the  latest  news.  Now  it 


VISITING   THE   SIN  353 

chanced  that  the  latest  news  included  the  story  of  the 
night  raid  upon  the  house  of  Mrs.  Felps,  and  the  com- 
plete disappearance  of  Marshall  Lane  Rutherford.  It 
did  not  include  the  clearing  up  of  the  mystery,  which 
came  a  day  or  so  after  Dalbert's  visit,  and  which  sent 
a  hearty,  healthy  laugh  running  back  and  forth  through 
Big  Creek  Gap.  To  Dalbert  the  story  was  an  indict- 
ment of  his  sister.  Who  but  Naomi  had  given  rise  to 
the  ill-feeling  that  had  culminated  in  such  a  night's 
work  ?  If  Marshall  were  dead,  who  but  Naomi  was  to 
blame  ? 

Dalbert's  purchases  were  never  made.  He  left  the 
store  in  a  hurry,  and  rode  straight  back  to  the  farm. 
His  brain  was  in  a  whirl.  Indignation  and  sorrow  kept 
up  a  continued  strain  of  comment  upon  the  news  he  had 
heard.  Could  the  originator  of  all  this  cruelty  be 
Naomi,  the  girl  who  had  risked  her  life  to  spare  him 
danger?  How  could  her  heart  have  thus  hardened, 
and  against  one  whom  she  had  known  well, —  nay,  if  he 
had  not  read  her  feelings  wrongly,  one  who  had  not 
failed  to  lay  successful  siege  to  that  heart  itself  ? 

Dal  ate  his  dinner  without  knowing  what  he  ate.  He 
did  not  even  remember  that,  when  it  was  finished,  there 
was  hardly  another  mouthful  of  food  in  the  house.  It 
had  been  long  since  he  had  left  his  farm  to  go  down  to 
the  village  shop,  and  his  store  needed  replenishing.  He 
had  gone  to-day  for  the  purpose.  He  came  back  as  he 
went,  except  for  a  full  heart  and  a  harassed  brain. 

Brain  and  heart  were  in  no  more  tranquil  condition 
when  he  harnessed  his  mules  and  went  out  to  plough  a 
steep  hillside  at  a  distance  from  the  house.  It  was  a 
wonder  how  the  mules  scrambled  up  and  down  that 
slope.  It  was  almost  to  be  feared  that  if  the  corn  came 
up  in  such  ground  it  would  one  day  take  a  sliding  trip 
from  the  top  to  the  bottom  of  the  field.  It  needed  a 
steady  hand  to  guide  the  mules  and  the  plough,  and 


354  VISITING   THE    SIN 

Dalbert's  hand  was  not  steady.  It  was  too  much  in 
sympathy  with  his  heart. 

It  was  not  the  fault  of  the  mules,  but  rather  of  an 
impatient  jerk  at  exactly  the  wrong  moment,  that  they 
turned  sharply  on  a  knob  of  land,  the  steepest  in  the 
field,  and  that  one  of  them  in  turning  caught  his  foot 
against  a  piece  of  rock  and  came  heavily  down.  It  was 
not  the  fault  of  the  mule  that  Dalbert  was  not  quick 
enough  to  get  out  of  the  way.  The  mule  was  not  the 
principal  sufferer.  The  animal  was  soon  on  its  feet 
again,  turning  its  head  to  discover  why  its  two-legged 
companion  did  not  follow  its  example.  He  would  have 
done  so  if  the  two  legs  had  been  in  their  normal  condi- 
tion ;  but  with  one  of  them  lying  broken  under  him,  get- 
ting up  was  a  matter  that  required  some  consideration. 

The  mules  stood  until  they  were  tired  of  the  exertion 
of  holding  themselves  on  the  steep  hill.  Then  they  es- 
sayed to  go  down,  but  a  peremptory  voice  restrained 
them.  Dal  was  thinking  out  the  situation. 

There  was  not  a  house  besides  his  own  within  a  mile 
and  a  half  of  where  he  lay.  It  required  some  courage 
to  drag  himself  on  to  the  back  of  one  of  the  mules  and 
ride  home,  but  there  was  nothing  to  be  gained  by  delay. 
Once  in  his  own  cabin,  he  could  wait  until  some  one 
came  that  way. 

How  long  it  took  him  to  accomplish  his  end  Dal  could 
not  have  told.  It  seemed  to  him  that  he  slipped  back  a 
dozen  times  before  the  uninjured  leg  was  thrown  across 
the  back  of  the  quietest  mule.  For  the  time  even 
Naomi  was  forgotten.  The  getting  back  to  the  house 
before  his  strength  failed  him  was  a  vital  question.  It 
engrossed  all  his  thoughts.  But  when  he  was  before 
the  door,  he  turned  the  heads  of  the  mules  away. 

"There's  no  telling  how  soon  ary  person  will  come 
this  way,"  he  said.  "The  poor  brutes  shan't  take  the 
risk  of  suffering." 


VISITING  THE   SIN  355 

He  guided  them  towards  a  grass  field,  near  by  the 
one  in  which  his  horse  was  already  feeding,  opened  the 
gate  at  the  cost  of  some  additional  pain,  and  then  slid 
from  the  mule's  back  to  the  ground.  He  even  suc- 
ceeded in  relieving  the  animals  of  their  harness,  and 
shutting  them  into  the  field.  Then  he  crawled  to  the 
house,  and  for  a  time  gave  up  the  fight  with  pain. 

All  that  was  three  days  ago,  and  the  first  passer-by 
had  not  yet  appeared.  It  was  no  wonder  Dal  was 
hungry,  or  that  half  the  time,  between  weakness  and 
pain,  his  brain  wandered.  The  footsteps  of  Lem  would 
be  welcome  when  they  came. 

"What's  she  doin'  thar?'  questioned  the  boy,  as  he 
turned  his  back  on  Naomi.  "  How's  he  to  go  to  farmin' 
alone  ?  Hit  hain't  right." 

By  which  decision  Lem  gave  evidence  that  his  sym- 
pathies were  entirely  with  his  hero,  notwithstanding 
Naomi's  friendliness  towards  himself,  and  her  success- 
ful intervention  in  Dai's  behalf  in  times  past. 

"  Hit's  a  powerful  long  way,  and  I  shall  be  awful  proud 
when  I  git  thar." 

Lem's  hunger  was  increasing.  So  was  his  weariness. 
At  the  last  house  he  passed  he  had  learned  that  Dal  was 
"at  home,  likely,  for  he  hadn't  been  daown  the  moun- 
tain for  a  right  smart  sight." 

"  If  them  fields  are  hisn,  he's  powerful  behind  with 
some  of  the  ploughin',"  commented  the  boy. 

He  quickened  his  steps  when  the  cabin  came  in  sight, 
and  the  weariness  disappeared  from  his  gait.  "He 
warn't  aimin'  to  let  Dal  see  him  all  played  aout." 

Dal  was  past  seeing  anything,  except  that  help  was 
near.  He  lay  near  the  window,  half  dozing,  half  un- 
conscious ;  but  the  sound  of  footsteps  aroused  him.  He 
raised  himself  on  his  elbow,  and  looked  out.  Was  his 
brain  wandering  again,  or  was  he  back  in  Cedar  Fork 
valley  ?  The  boy's  face  was  familiar,  but  it  had  no  con- 
nection with  Big  Creek  Gap. 


3$6  VISITING   THE    SIN 

«  Lem  ? " 

The  name  came  doubtfully.  Dalbert  was  more  than 
half  inclined  to  believe  that  the  apparent  arrival  was  a 
delusion. 

"  Oh,  lor  !     Why,  thar's  somethin'  wrong !  " 

Lem  did  not  go  to  the  window  to  satisfy  curiosity. 
He  bounded  in  at  the  broken  gate,  and  sent  the  house 
door  back  with  a  bang.  Then  he  was  standing  beside 
Dalbert. 

"  Lor !  I  thought  she  was  a-duin'  a  pretty  thing  a-stayin' 
thar  and  leavin'  you  to  lueke  aout  for  yourself,"  he  said. 

"Where  did  you  come  from ?  "  asked  Dal. 

"  Cedar  Fork.  Say,  Dal,  what's  up  ?  You  got  to  be 
attended  to  right  away." 

"  I  reckon  you're  right,  boy,"  said  Dal,  with  a  smile 
that  trembled  a  little  on  his  lips.  "  A  broken  leg  wants 
seeing  to  in  less  than  three  days." 

"  Shucks !  You  hain't  been  layin'  thar  for  three  days, 
and  nobody  come  near  ? "  exclaimed  Lem. 

"  Looks  like  it,"  said  Dal. 

"  I'm  goin'  clar  back  to  fetch  her.  She  hain't  knowing 
or  she  wouldn't  be  stoppin*  thar  gittin'  other  men's  grub, 
and  leavin'  you  this  away." 

Lem  had  already  started  for  the  door. 

"  Lem ! " 

The  tone  was  peremptory.     The  boy  stopped. 

"  Where  are  you  goin'  ? "  asked  Dal. 

"  To  fetch  her,  of  course." 

"Who?" 

"Why,  Naomi." 

"  You'll  do  nothing  of  the  sort,"  replied  the  young 
man.  "  I  won't  have  her  told.  You  come  back  here." 

Lem's  eyes  opened  wide.  Were  the  skies  about  to 
fall  ?  "  Naomi  Mozingo  and  Dal  not  hittin'  hit  ? "  Lem 
failed  to  understand  things. 

"  You  hain't  goin'  to  tell  her  ?  "  he  asked. 


VISITING   THE    SIN  357 

"  Certainly  not,"  said  Dal.  "  Lem,  you  go  down  to 
the  nearest  house, —  you  passed  it  a  smart  piece  below, — 
and  ask  them  to  give  you  anything  in  the  shape  of  vict- 
uals that  they've  got  handy.  Tell  them  it's  three  days 
since  I've  had  any,  to  speak  of." 

"  My  lor !  " 

The  boy  was  at  the  door  again. 

"  And  Lem !  You  can  help  yourself  out  of  what  they 
give  you.  I  guess  you're  hungry  too." 

"Oh,  I  hain't  hungry,"  said  the  boy,  for  the  second 
time  that  day ;  and  for  the  second  time  it  would  have 
b.een  impossible  to  accuse  him  of  speaking  absolute 
truth. 

"  Lor,  hit's  a  si-ight !  "  commented  Lem,  as  the  dust 
flew  from  under  his  feet.  "  Him  a-layin'  thar,  and  her 
cue-kin  for  other  fellers  ! " 

Lem  was  in  the  dark.  All  the  way  back  up  the  hill, 
as  he  shouldered  the  bag  into  which  sundry  provisions 
had  been  hastily  thrust,  he  was  pondering  the  situation ; 
and  when  he  reached  the  cabin,  he  was  still  at  a  loss  to 
understand  it. 

"Thar's  a  poke  full,"  he  said,  bringing  his  bag  down 
with  a  thud.  "  Now  you'd  better  eat." 

He  tended  his  patient  carefully ;  but  when  Dal  was 
satisfied,  and  the  weary  look  of  pain  returned  to  his 
eyes,  the  boy  regarded  him  wistfully  for  a  minute. 

"  Whar  does  the  doctor  live  ? "  he  asked.  "  I'm  goin' 
atter  him." 

"Take  Charley.  He's  running  in  the  field.  Ride 
till  you  get  clear  to  the  bottom  of  the  hill.  Anybody 
will  tell  you  which  way  to  turn  after  that,"  said  Dal 
dreamily. 

"All  right,"  replied  the  boy.  "You  go  to  sleep. 
I'll  bring  him  along." 

His  weary  legs  once  astride  Charley's  back,  Lem 
looked  the  world  hopefully  in  the  face  again.  He  rode 
a  few  yards  past  the  house,  and  looked  down. 


358  VISITING   THE   SIN 

"  I  reckon  this  away's  the  quickest  to  the  bottom,"  he 
said,  and  went  down  the  side  of  the  hill  farthest  from 
Big  Creek  Gap.  Thus  it  happened  that  the  doctor  who 
set  the  broken  limb  was  not  the  representative  of 
medical  science  in  Big  Creek,  and  thus  it  also  happened 
that  a  considerable  time  elapsed  before  Naomi  heard  of 
her  brother's  accident. 

Lem  assisted  in  the  setting  of  the  bone,  and  estab- 
lished himself  as  head  nurse. 

"  I've  come  to  lue-uke  atter  him,"  he  said  ;  and  though 
his  own  face  was  pinched  with  weariness,  Dalbert  had 
a  careful  attendant  that  night. 

"  Thar's  got  to  be  some  luekin'  inter  things  done," 
decided  Lem. 

And  Lem  was  the  boy  to  do  it.  Before  Dal  was  on 
his  feet  again,  Lem  knew  all  about  Big  Creek  Gap,  past 
and  present.  He  had  been  down  to  inspect  the  old 
house  in  the  hollow,  and  made  a  dive  into  the  "bone 
cave."  He  knew  the  story  that  pertained  to  Marshall 
Rutherford  and  Nora  Felps,  and  had  made  the  acquaint- 
ance of  both  the  principals  in  that  adventure.  It  was 
he  who  set  Dalbert's  mind  at  rest  about  Marshall's 
safety,  and  told  the  story  of  the  abduction  with  inimi- 
table humour. 

"  Him  and  Norah's  making  up  to  each  other,"  he 
announced  later.  "  Lor  !  they'll  be  a  powerful  pretty 
pair.  That  gal's  worth  somethinV' 

Dalbert's  fields  were  not  neglected.  His  nearest 
neighbour  put  in  the  remainder  of  the  corn,  and  Lem 
worked  like  a  young  enthusiast  in  the  cause.  How  he 
found  time  for  excursions  to  the  village,  none  but  Lem 
could  have  told. 

Dal  was  already  recovering  when  Naomi  stopped  the 
boy  to  ask  about  him.  His  farm  was  miles  away  from 
the  mill,  and  she  had  but  lately  heard  of  his  accident. 

"He's  a-comin'  on  all  ri-ight,"  said  the  boy  loftily. 


VISITING   THE   SIN  359 

"  You  hain't  no  more  cause  to  bother  yourself  abaout 
him  naow  than  you  had  when  he  hadn't  nobody  to  lueke 
atter  him.  Go  and  feed  the  fellers  you're  cuekin'  and 
duin'  for.  He  hain't  layin'  three  days  without  ary  thing 
to  eat  naow." 

And  Lem  passed  on  haughtily. 

Those  were  glorious  days  to  Lem.  He  was  not  only 
useful,  but  essential,  to  his  hero.  He  removed  all 
uneasiness  from  Dalbert's  mind  with  respect  to  the 
safety  of  the  machinery  left  in  the  mill  at  Cedar  Fork, 
and  told  him  the  news  of  the  valley. 

"  Lor !  they-uns  has  found  hit  hain't  all  gain  to  turn 
agin  the  man  that's  he'pin*  put  money  in  they-uns' 
pockets,"  he  said.  "They're  a-growlin'  naow  'cause 
times  is  hard  and  thar  hain't  no  money  in  the  valley. 
Lor  !  thar  hain't  like  to  be." 

There  were  some  things  that  Lem  did  not  find  out. 
He  never  learned  of  the  dissatisfaction  in  Will  Hollings- 
worth's  mind,  nor  of  his  growing  eagerness  to  win  the 
girl  who  seemed  to  get  further  from  him  as  the  days 
passed.  And  he  knew  nothing  of  the  bitterness  in  that 
girl's  heart,  or  of  the  pain  that  had  found  a  lodgment 
there. 

Since  she  heard  of  Wash  Forehand's  exploit,  Naomi 
had  seen  herself  with  Marshall  Rutherford's  eyes.  She 
tried  to  talk  to  herself  to  justice,  and  of  the  wrong  of  let- 
ting a  murderer  go  unpunished  ;  but  the  attempt  was  a 
pitiful  failure.  She  failed  to  convince  herself  that  one 
murder  was  not  as  bad  as  another ;  and  that  Marshall 
Rutherford  was  alive  to-day  was  surely  not  her  fault. 
The  words  of  Mrs.  Felps  would  not  be  driven  from  her 
memory.  It  was  she  who  had  set  the  stone  rolling. 
And  that  stone  had  struck  —  what  ?  Naomi's  proud 
head  drooped  as  she  acknowledged  that  it  had  struck 
her  own  heart. 


36o  VISITING   THE   SIN 


CHAPTER  XXV 

IN  two  more  days  hev  gone,  the  curse  '11  be 
ended." 

The  heavy,  rugged  face  had  a  solemn  look  in 
it.  There  «•  a  certain  solemnity  in  walking  quietly  up 
to  the  end  of  life  and  facing  it  squarely.  Two  months 
had  almost  passed  since  a  certain  dream  had  brought  a 
look  of  peace  to  Abner  Poteet's  face.  The  peace  had 
never  left  it. 

"Hit'll  be  two  months  to-morrer,  Norah,"  he  con- 
tinued. 

His  hand  was  on  the  girl's  arm.  He  was  looking 
wistfully  into  her  face. 

"  I  hain't  forgittin',"  she  said,  meeting  his  gaze  with 
eyes  that  were  sorrowful ;  "  but  I  hain't  willin'  to  believe 
hit.  Thar  may  be  a  mistake." 

"Thar  hain't,"  he  said  confidently.  "I  hain't 
wantin'  thar  should  be.  Norah,  that  thar  readin'  said 
hit  was  the  last  stroke.  I'm  waitin'  for  hit.  Hit'll 
come." 

There  was  a  sob  in  the  girl's  throat. 

"  Hit'll  come,"  he  continued.  "  Hit'll  come  plumb 
on  me.  Hit's  whar  hit  ought er  come.  I  was  scart  hit 
should  reach  further  'n  me.  I  warn't  knowin'  how 
many  sins  thar  was.  I  was  fearin'  the  visitin'  warn't 
over,  and  some  of  hit  might  fall  on  Marshall  —  and 
you.  Hit  hain't  a-goin'  to." 

A  note  of  triumph  was  recognisable  in  his  voice. 

"  Hit  warn't  your  fault,  Ab.  They  warn't  your  sins," 
said  the  girl. 

"Thar's   enough    of   my  own,"  he  said    sorrowfully. 


VISITING  THE   SIN  361 

"But  hisn  was  worse.  I  hain't  knowin'  all  thar  was 
in  'em.  I  was  fearin'  they'd  go  inter  the  other  world. 
They're  comin'  to  an  end.  Thar  '11  soon  be  a  finish  to 
the  visitin'  now." 

The  spell  of  the  supernatural  was  on  the  girl  as  well 
as  on  Abner.  She  could  not  shake  it  off.  She  looked 
at  the  face  above  her  with  eyes  that  were  full  of  tears. 
Shining  through  the  mist  of  their  own  compassion,  they 
had  a  drawing  power  stronger  than  ever  for  the  big, 
tender  hearted  man  looking  down  into  them. 

"  Norah,"  he  said  gently,  "thar  '11  be  a-plenty  for  you. 
I've  settled  hit  all,  and  had  everything  drawn  up  ac- 
cordin'  to  law.  Thar  couldn't  never  be  no  curse  on  the 
farm.  Hit  warn't  hisn  :  hit  was  my  mammy's.  That's 
yourn  now,  Norah.  And  thar's  the  money  I've  saved 
aout  o'  my  own  makin's.  Thar's  a  right  smart  of  hit. 
Hit's  all  yourn  atter  enough's  took  aout  of  hit  to  put 
me  away  decent." 

"  I  hain't  want  in'  the  money,  Ab,"  she  said. 

He  smiled  tenderly. 

"Norah,"  he  said,  the  words  coming  in  slow,  softly 
spoken  sentences,  "I  useter  think  I'd  maybe  some 
day  have  courage  to  ask  you  to  take  hit.  I  useter 
think  of  you  settin'  afore  the  fire  thar.  The  house 
warn't  as  good  as  yourn,  but  I  could  'a  fixed  hit  up. 
We'd  'a  bought  new  things  and  made  hit  pretty.  But 
thar  was  the  curse  that  was  restin'  on  me.  And  hit 
was  to  the  third  and  fourth  generation.  Hit  would  'a 
touched  you.  I  warn't  aimin'  to  let  hit  du  tha-at." 

He  was  looking  into  her  eyes.  She  did  not  turn 
them  away. 

"Hit  warn't  safe,"  he  said  sorrowfully.  "But  the 
sins  hev  done  been  visited  now.  Thar  hain't  none  left 
to  fall  on  Marshall  and  you." 

She  heard  the  break  in  his  voice.  Even  now  it  was 
not  easy  for  him  to  give  her  up  to  his  cousin,  though 


362  VISITING   THE   SIN 

upon  the  first  intimation  of  his  own  death  he  had  been 
impatient  to  have  Marshall's  relation  to  the  girl  settled. 

"Ab,  I  hain't  believin'  that  dream;  and  I  won't!" 

The  words  burst  from  the  girl's  lips  with  the  force  of 
passion  rather  than  of  conviction.  She  did  believe  it  — 
they  all  believed  it.  How  could  they  help  it,  when  the 
firm  persuasion  of  its  truth  was  in  every  line  of  Abner's 
face? 

He  smiled  upon  her. 

"Hit'll  come,"  he  said.  "But  hit'll  be  the  end. 
Thar  won't  be  no  more  curse  on  the  money  then,  and 
thar  won't  be  no  more  danger  in  usin'  hit.  Hit's  hisn, 
all  of  hit  —  and  you're  hisn  —  only  he'll  give  hit  to  ye 
instead  'o  me." 

The  last  words  came  regretfully.  He  turned  his 
head  away,  but  only  for  a  moment.  He  could  not  afford 
to  lose  the  sight  of  the  girl's  face.  He  realised  that  it 
was  a  joy  that  was  almost  ended. 

"We  don't  want  the  money,"  she  said  petulantly. 
"  We'd  rather  have  you." 

He  looked  at  her  wistfully  for  a  moment,  then  bent  his 
head  and  kissed  her  forehead.  It  was  the  first  time, 
and  the  colour  dyed  his  face  as  if  it  had  been  a  girl's. 

It  was  on  the  following  day  that  Naomi  Mozingo  met 
Norah  in  the  valley  road.  She  was  struck  by  the  deli- 
cate beauty  of  the  girl's  face.  It  had  acquired  a  new 
charm  of  late.  Naomi  did  not  need  to  ask  herself 
whence  came  the  happiness  that  had  put  its  imprint 
there.  Her  own  heart  clamoured  to  her  the  secret. 
To-day,  however,  there  was  a  subtle  change.  The  brill- 
iancy of  the  beauty  was  shadowed.  The  eyes  that 
looked  up  at  Naomi's  approach  had  lost  their  flash. 
They  were  not  the  less  attractive  for  the  change.  The 
girl  was,  if  anything,  more  beautiful,  now  that  sorrow 
and  awe  mingled  with  the  happiness  that  tempered  pain. 
Norah,  like  Abner,  was  waiting  for  "  the  last  stroke." 


VISITING  THE   SIN  363 

The  greeting  that  passed  between  the  two  girls  was 
scant.  Naomi  went  on  her  way  with  an  added  weariness 
in  her  heart.  And  because  her  heart  was  weary,  her 
steps  were  tireless.  They  carried  her  through  the  Gap, 
past  the  great  castle-like  rocks  that  could  have  told  wild 
stories  of  occupation  by  Union  and  Confederate  bands,  and 
out  into  a  picturesque  hollow  of  the  hills,  sweeping  back 
again  behind  the  mountains  that  opened  to  form  the 
gateway  of  the  valley.  Green  and  cool  and  inviting  was 
that  shut-in  hollow  of  but  a  few  acres  all  told.  Naomi 
had  not  noticed  it  before,  when  she  rode  past  it  on  Duke's 
back.  Now  curiosity  turned  her  feet  into  the  cleft 
among  the  hills,  that  looked  so  thoroughly  out  of  the 
world  that  the  girl  felt  a  thrill  of  expectancy  as  she 
passed  into  the  shadow  and  trod  the  soft  grass.  Across 
the  open  grass  land  her  eye  chanced  upon  a  lightly 
marked  foot-path. 

"  The  feet  that  come  this  way  are  not  many,"  mused 
the  girl,  as  she  turned  into  the  barely  suggested  track. 

Not  until  she  had  followed  it  for  the  full  length  of  the 
little  valley,  and  begun  climbing  a  hill  right  ahead,  did  a 
mist  of  blue  smoke  explain  the  existence  of  the  path. 
Naomi  was  curious.  Who  lived  in  this  out-of-the-way 
nook,  and  why  was  the  foot-path  so  dimly  defined  ? 

She  came  upon  the  brow  of  the  hill,  and  looked  down. 
Right  below  her  the  smoke  came  lazily  from  a  low  chim- 
ney, raised  barely  a  foot  above  the  roof  of  the  cabin. 
Naomi  could  have  jumped  down  clear  on  that  roof  if  she 
had  chosen,  so  precipitous  was  the  rock  upon  which  she 
stood.  It  was  not  necessary  to  jump,  however,  for  the 
path  led  round  the  rock,  and  down  by  a  circuitous  but 
less  break-neck  route. 

Did  no  premonition  of  danger  warn  the  girl  to  stay 
her  footsteps  before  she  trod  that  circuitous  path  ? 
Surely  not.  There  was  a  thrill  of  excitement  in  her 
nerves,  a  feeling  of  being  on  the  eve  of  a  discovery.  It 


364  VISITING  THE   SIN 

stimulated  her,  and  for  the  moment  made  it  possible  to 
forget.  She  stood  watching  the  smoke  curl  from  the 
chimney,  almost  reluctant  to  take  her  eyes  from  the 
strangely  hidden  dwelling,  and  then  set  a  light  foot  on 
the  downward  path. 

Once  started,  her  progress  was  necessarily  rapid. 
She  drew  up,  breathless,  in  a  tangle  of  weeds  and  low 
bushes.  The  house  was  directly  before  her, —  a  little  low 
hut  with  a  pile  of  bark  and  roots  and  sticks  beside  the 
door. 

"  What  a  wonderful  wood-pile ! "  said  the  girl, .  and 
went  nearer  to  examine  it. 

Every  conceivable  thing  that  would  burn  was  included 
in  that  heap.  Broken  chair-backs,  spokes  from  wheels, 
old  wooden  stirrups,  cracked  gourds,  bark,  branches, 
twigs,  weeds, —  all  had  a  place  in  the  pile.  It  reached 
high  above  the  girl's  head  as  she  stood  by  its  side.  She 
looked  at  it  with  amazement,  and  something  like  awe. 
Who  had  built  it  up,  twig  upon  twig  and  weed  upon 
weed  ? 

Curiosity  prompted  her  to  examine  further,  and  again 
that  thrill  of  expectancy  ran  through  her  as  she  came  to 
the  door.  It  was  shut ;  and  she  knocked  gently,  glanc- 
ing at  the  same  time  at  the  rickety  old  shutter  that 
closed  the  opening  which  should  serve  as  a  window. 
Though  it  was  carefully  shut,  it  hung  so  nearly  off  its 
hinges  that  Naomi  had  no  difficulty  in  pushing  it  partly 
away. 

"  There's  somebody  inside,"  she  said,  after  that  peep 
into  the  mysterious  cabin. 

There  had  come  no  answer  to  her  first  knock  ;  but  she 
rapped  again,  and  tried  the  door.  It  refused  to  yield  to 
her  touch. 

And  then  a  strange  impulse  seized  her.  She  went 
back  to  the  shutter,  and  once  more  pulled  it  partly  away. 
After  one  long  look  she  let  it  fall  into  position  again, 


VISITING   THE   SIN  365 

and  walked  quickly  to  the  rear  of  the  house.  She  had 
seen  light  inside  that  room.  Its  presence  betokened 
a  window  somewhere. 

Who  lived  in  this  house?  Did  nobody  ever  walk 
round  it  ?  The  weeds  were  knee-deep  about  it,  as  if 
they  had  been  untrodden  for  years  ;  and  yet  Naomi  could 
have  sworn  that  she  had  seen  within  the  room  a  face 
lying  upon  a  pillow  somewhere  where  the  light  shone 
full  upon  it. 

There  had  been  no  answer  to  her  second  knock, 
though  she  had  distinctly  heard  a  movement  inside. 
.Why  should  the  door  be  kept  locked  so  carefully  in  this 
lonely  dwelling  among  the  mountains  ? 

A  strong  desire  to  enter  the  house  possessed  the  girl. 
She  went  right  round  the  building,  looking  for  that  win- 
dow which  had  thrown  light  upon  the  face  she  had  seen. 
There  was  no  such  window  to  be  found.  Except  in 
front,  neither  door  nor  opening  of  any  kind  was  in  evi- 
dence. All  who  entered  must  enter  by  the  door  that  was 
now  securely  locked,  and  all  light  must,  so  far  as  she 
could  see,  come  in  by  that  door  also,  or  by  the  hole  left 
open  when  the  shutter  was  swung  back.  And  yet  she 
had  distinctly  seen  a  face  upon  which  the  light  fell,  and 
the  face  had  sent  through  her  nerves  a  thrill  for  which 
she  could  not  account.  She  had  not  seen  it  plainly 
enough  to  understand  the  cause  of  that  thrill,  but  she 
experienced  an  irresistible  desire  to  see  it  again. 

She  went  back  to  the  door.  It  was  still  securely  fast- 
ened. She  turned  from  it  to  the  shutter.  One  sharp 
wrench,  and  that  dilapidated  covering  would  fall  from  its 
hinges.  The  girl  drew  a  quick  breath.  Had  she 
courage  for  that  wrench  ?  She  could  make  good  the 
damage ;  but  where  was  the  excuse  ?  And  how  about 
the  temper  of  the  owner  ?  That  was  an  unknown  quan- 
tity. Naomi  told  herself  she  was  foolish  to  wish  to  in- 
vestigate this  mystery  among  the  mountains.  What  was 
it  to  her  who  lived  in  the  house  ? 


366  VISITING   THE    SIN 

Nevertheless  a  moment  later  she  drew  herself  up,  set 
her  feet  firmly  upon  the  weeds,  and  stood  with  the  shut- 
ter in  her  hand  and  the  opening  fully  disclosed.  The 
deed  was  done,  and  the  consequences  to  be  met.  But 
just  now  there  was  no  thought  of  consequences  in  the 
girl's  mind.  There  was  no  thought  of  the  dwelling  into 
which  she  was  looking.  All  consciousness  was  concen- 
trated upon  the  face  that  lay  upon  the  pillow,  with  the 
light  shining  full  upon  it.  She  did  not  even  see  that 
the  light  fell  from  above,  and  that  the  window  for  which 
she  had  been  looking  was  to  be  sought  for  in  the  roof. 
She  had  eyes  for  nothing  but  that  face ;  and  as  she  looked 
upon  it,  her  hold  upon  the  shutter  relaxed,  her  hands 
went  out  towards  it,  and  her  lips  quivered  with  excitement 
and  love  as  they  uttered  the  one  word,  "  Father !  " 

She  was  so  completely  engrossed  that  her  ears  failed 
to  warn  her  of  footsteps  that  approached.  Perhaps  the 
ears  were  not  altogether  to  blame,  for  they  would  have 
needed  extraordinary  keenness  to  detect  the  tread, 
stealthy  as  that  of  a  panther,  with  which  the  coming 
figure  drew  near.  If  the  girl  had  surprised  that  savage 
beast  in  its  lair,  it  would  hardly  have  met  her  with  eyes 
that  had  in  them  a  more  dangerous  gleam  than  those 
that  glowered  at  the  girl  from  beneath  bushy,  white  eye- 
brows. With  a  long,  noiseless  stride  the  figure  reached 
the  opposite  side  of  the  wood-pile,  and  leant  forward  till 
the  woman's  breath  might  surely  have  been  felt  on  the 
girl's  cheek. 

If  strength  of  will  and  vigour  of  animosity  could  kill, 
Naomi  would  at  that  moment  have  been  in  imminent 
danger.  But  what  will-power  could  not  do,  another 
force  was  set  to  accomplish.  The  woman  drew  back 
into  the  shelter  of  the  wood-pile.  Then  the  strong  old 
arm  went  out,  and  selected  from  that  pile  a  weapon. 
None  but  China  Partins  knew  that  that  bit  of  wood  was 
iron-bound.  China  had  picked  it  up  in  the  precincts  of 


VISITING   THE   SIN  367 

the  blacksmith's  shop  ten  years  before.  She  knew 
which  piece  to  select.  And  she  knew  how  to  draw  it 
from  beneath  the  pile  without  disturbing  the  hetero- 
geneous mass  that  rested  upon  it.  The  eyes  gleamed 
again  as  the  hand  swung  that  long-preserved  weapon 
round  and  up. 

"  I'm  coming,  father  ! " 

Naomi's  head  was  within  the  opening.  Her  hands 
were  raising  her  for  the  effort  to  climb  into  the  little 
window  at  the  very  moment  when  the  blow  descended. 
Had  it  been  otherwise,  the  mystery  of  the  cottage  upon 
the  mountains  might  have  remained  a  mystery  still. 
The  shutter,  hanging  by  its  fastening,  took  the  force  of 
the  blow,  though  the  edge  of  the  weapon  glanced  off  to 
the  girl's  shoulder,  and  left  a  mark  that  was  not  effaced 
for  many  a  day. 

After  all,  it  was  not  altogether  that  movement  on 
Naomi's  part  that  prevented  a  tragedy.  The  old 
woman  had  already  sprung  forward  with  arm  uplifted, 
ready  to  strike  again.  It  was  a  sound,  half  call,  half 
moan,  from  within  the  cabin,  that  stopped  that  muscu- 
lar arm.  It  brought  a  change,  sudden  and  bewildering, 
into  the  face  and  attitude  of  the  woman.  Almost  be- 
fore Naomi  had  time  to  turn,  with  the  cry  that  sudden 
blow  had  forced  from  her  yet  on  her  lips,  the  woman 
had  sprung  aside,  and  flung  open  the  door. 

The  next  moment  the  girl  started  back.  Between 
her  and  the  face  upon  which  her  eyes  had  been  yearn- 
ingly fixed  stood  a  form  not  to  be  forgotten  when  once 
seen.  It  was  tall,  in  spite  of  the  bent  shoulders,  and 
commanding  notwithstanding  its  unmistakable  marks  of 
age.  It  was  not  the  figure,  however,  but  the  eyes  — 
deep-set,  gleaming,  overshadowed  by  a  mass  of  white 
bushy  brows  —  that  drew  the  girl's  fascinated  gaze. 
They  burned  like  coals  of  fire, —  burned  as  if  they 
would  consume  the  intruder.  Yet,  gazing  into  them, 


368  VISITING  THE    SIN 

Naomi  felt  no  fear.  There  was  room  in  her  conscious- 
ness for  nothing  but  the  knowledge  that  her  father  was 
here,  and  that  this  woman  stood  between  her  and  him. 

The  pain  of  the  blow  was  forgotten,  the  cause  of  it 
not  even  understood.  The  girl  looked  into  the  old  face 
keenly.  What  a  face  it  was,  with  the  experiences  of  a 
hundred  years  written  upon  it, —  no,  rather  carved 
deeply  into  it !  The  wrinkles  were  not  furrows  merely : 
they  were  gullies  hollowed  out  of  the  parchment-cov- 
ered surface.  Naomi  had  seen  that  face  before,  on  the 
other  side  of  her  own  window.  Looking  at  it  now,  in 
the  surroundings  to  which  it  evidently  belonged,  she 
read  a  different  story  in  it.  What  was  the  relationship 
between  her  father  and  this  old  woman?  How  came 
he  here,  so  evidently  helpless  ? 

She  had  barely  time  to  ask  herself  the  ques- 
tions. For  a  moment  the  figure  had  turned  from  her, 
to  bend  over  the  pillow  and  speak  low,  crooning  words 
as  if  to  a  child.  Then  the  woman  swept  round  and 
faced  the  girl  again. 

Was  it  charm  —  incantation  —  malediction, —  that 
low  hissing  murmur  with  which  she  met  the  wondering 
gaze  of  the  young  eyes  ? 

"What  is  the  matter  with  him  ?     He  is  my  father  !  " 

Naomi's  voice  was  clear,  and  ringing  with  excite- 
ment. Her  hands  were  trembling.  That  still  face 
upon  the  pillow  appalled  her.  It  was  her  father's,  but 
it  made  no  movement  in  response  to  her  call.  It  lay 
as  it  had  lain  when  she  wrenched  off  the  shutter, —  a  face 
perfect  in  comeliness,  hardly  perceptibly  older  than 
when  she  looked  into  it  and  bade  him  good-by  as  he 
rode  away  from  the  mountain  farm,  but  immovable  as 
it  had  never  been  for  her  before.  It  had  in  it  the  life 
and  strength  of  a  man,  combined  with  the  stillness  of 
death.  It  sent  a  chill  though  her  veins  and  a  sense  of 
awe  to  her  heart. 


VISITING   THE    SIN  369 

"  Hush,  gal !     Git  aout  o'  that  winder  !  " 

The  brown,  wrinkled  hand  pushed  her  back.  She 
yielded,  but  it  was  only  to  appear  at  the  door. 

"  Git  aout  o'  thar  !     You'll  fright  him ! " 

But  Naomi  had  darted  past  her,  and  was  on  her 
knees  by  the  narrow  bed. 

"  Father  !     Don't  you  know  me  ?     It's  Naomi ! " 

The  eyes  were  turned  upon  her, —  those  deep,  dark 
eyes,  so  like  her  own.  Was  there  a  look  of  recognition  in 
them,  or  was  it  the  same  fixed  gaze  that  had  been  there 
from  the  first  ? 

"  Does  he  know  ? "  she  asked  appealingly. 

The  woman  looked  down  at  her. 

"No,  he  don't,"  she  said  savagely. 

But  even  as  she  spoke  there  was  that  same  sound, 
half  moan,  half  cry,  that  had  brought  her  to  his  side 
before.  She  pushed  roughly  against  the  girl. 

"  Git  up  !  "  she  said.     "  You're  disturbin'  him." 

Naomi  did  not  move. 

"  Git  up,  gal !  Don't  you  know  hit's  more  than  your 
life's  worth  to  come  here  this  away  ? " 

The  words  were  hissed  into  Naomi's  ear. 

"  No,"  she  replied  in  a  voice  that  she  tried  in  vain  to 
steady.  "  What  are  you  doing  with  him  ?  He's  my 
father." 

The  woman  laughed, —  a  low,  mocking  laugh. 

"Your  father!  Don't  I  know  tha-at ?  Hain't  I 
knowed  hit  since  the  day  you  rode  through  the  Gap  ? 
Hain't  I  laid  wait  for  ye  ?  Gal,  you  come  here  at  your 
peril!" 

The  vindictiveness  throbbed  through  every  word.  If 
the  thrill  of  the  voice  spoke  truth,  the  woman  would 
have  liked  to  make  those  skinny  fingers  meet  around  the 
girl's  throat.  Yet  there  was  a  strange  repression,  a 
holding  the  passion  within  bounds,  that  Naomi  would 
have  found  it  hard  to  account  for  if  she  had  been  in 


370  VISITING   THE   SIN 

a  mood  for  reasoning.  Just  now,  however,  even  the 
passion  was  wasted  upon  her. 

"  Why  should  there  be  danger  ?  "  she  asked  wonder- 
ingly.  "  We  have  looked  for  him  so  long.  I  thought 
he  was  dead." 

Again  there  came  that  low,  mocking  laugh. 

"Yes — you  thought  Ken  Poteet  killed  him  —  more 
fool  you ! " 

Why  did  the  words  send  the  colour  in  one  wild  sweep 
across  the  girl's  face,  and  then  leave  it  white  as  death  ? 
She  knelt  as  if  stunned.  Kennedy  Poteet !  She  had 
called  him  her  father's  murderer ! 

If  the  hands  with  the  long,  claw-shaped  nails  had 
gripped  her  throat,  they  could  hardly  have  stilled  the 
beating  of  her  heart  more  effectually  than  those  words 
had  done.  Just  how  long  it  was  before  it  began  throb- 
bing again,  with  a  leap  like  a  wild  thing  rebelling  against 
fate,  she  did  not  know. 

She  had  not  been  thinking,  but  through  her  brain  in 
the  interval  had  passed  the  sweep  of  a  year.  With  the 
leap  of  her  heart  into  action  again,  she  put  the  vision 
from  her.  It  could  be  met  later.  She  looked  up,  and 
saw  those  angry  eyes  glaring  at  her ;  and  a  sudden  im- 
pulse of  defiance  seized  her. 

"  Why  do  you  look  at  me  so  ?  "  she  cried.  "  I  have 
never  injured  you.  Tell  me  what  you  have  done  to  my 
father.  What  is  the  matter  with  him  ?  " 

"  Tell  you  what  I've  done  to  him  ? "  The  eyes  fairly 
blazed.  "  Gal,  I  cain't !  Whar  should  I  begin  ?  I've 
fought  for  him  like  a  wild-cat,  and  tended  him  like  a 
babe,  and  loved  him  like  a  mother,  and  hidden  him  like 
a  treasure,  and  trembled  like  a  fool  for  fear  of  losin* 
him, —  lor  !  gal,  what's  the  use  tellin'  you-u  ?  You  don't 
understand,  and  never  would." 

Her  voice  had  risen  with  excitement.  Her  attitude 
was  threatening.  But  once  more  into  the  midst  of  her 


VISITING  THE   SIN  371 

rising  fury  broke  that  inarticulate  sound  from  the  bed. 
Then  it  became  evident  why  the  old  woman  had  re- 
strained her  passion.  That  cry  had  power  to  still  the 
storm.  Her  voice  dropped  to  a  whisper,  and  the  fury 
died  out  of  it. 

"  Hush !     He's  listenin'." 

"  Then  he  does  know  ? " 

The  old  woman  grunted.  The  sound  might  mean 
either  assent  or  denial. 

Naomi  rose,  and  bent  over  the  bed. 

"  Father,  do  you  know  me  ? "  she  asked.  "  If  you  do, 
make  some  sign.  Oh,  father  dear,  we've  wanted  you 
so!" 

There  was  no  response.  The  tears  gathered  in  the 
girl's  eyes,  and  one  dropped  warm  on  the  still  face.  Did 
he  know  her  ?  Naomi  could  not  tell. 

But  when  she  turned  away  from  the  bed  there  came  a 
startling  change.  The  right  arm  of  the  man  was  lifted, 
and  brought  down  upon  a  chair  by  his  side.  Naomi 
knew  now  from  whence  had  come  the  sound  that  told 
her  the  house  was  inhabited. 

"  He  can  move  !  "  she  said  breathlessly. 

"  Yes,  with  that  arm.  Thar  hain't  another  bit  o'  stir 
in  his  body." 

The  woman  spoke  sullenly,  but  the  passion  was  gone. 

Again  that  right  arm  moved  —  impatiently. 

"  Git  daown  on  yer  knees  agin  —  he  wants  ye ! '' 

"Does  he  know?"  asked  the  girl  again,  bending  until 
her  face  almost  touched  his. 

"Yes." 

"  Father  !     Dear  father,"  she  said  softly. 

Her  hand  touched  his  cheek.  A  sob  forced  its  way 
through  her  lips.  It  was  long  before  there  was  any 
movement  in  the  room. 

"  Git  up  !  "  said  the  old  woman  at  last ;  and  there  was 
a  new  tone  in  her  voice.  "  You're  safe.  Thar  hain't 


372  VISITING   THE    SIN 

nary  person  been  in  this  house  inside  o'  fifteen  year. 
Thar  hain't  nary  one  would  have  gone  aout  alive  if  they 
had.  You  can  go  —  and  come." 

"  Why  ? "  asked  the  girl. 

"  Because  he  wants  you." 

Naomi  looked  into  the  old  face  inquiringly. 

"  You  love  him,"  she  said ;  and  the  words  were  not  a 
question. 

"  Love  him ! "  The  fierceness  had  come  back  into 
the  old  eyes.  They  burned  like  a  flame  as  the  woman 
spoke.  "  What  do  you  know  abaout  love  ?  You  say 
he's  your  father.  What  o'  that  ?  Have  you  watched 
him  day  and  night  for  fifteen  years  ?  Havej^z/  learned 
to  know  what  he  wants  by  sounds  that  wouldn't  mean 
nothin'  to  other  people  ?  Did  you  slide  like  a  snake  be- 
hind him  that  was  aimin'  to  put  a  shot  through  him,  and 
turn  the  death-dealer  into  a  corpse  ?  Did  you  lift  the 
rocks  that  pinned  him  daown,  and  carry  his  crushed 
body  away  in  your  arms  ?  Did  you  fight  death  while  he 
lay  like  a  log  for  weeks,  neither  movin'  nor  livin',  but 
jist  not  dead  ?  Did  you  stand  thar  plumb  between  him 
and  dyin'  till  Death  sneaked  off  worsted,  and  he  begun 
to  live  ?  Did  you  teach  him  and  yourself  to  understand, 
till  you  knew  what  he  meant  near  as  plain  as  if  he  could 
speak?  "Your  father!  Lor!  he's  child  and  home  and 
life  to  me.  Love  him  ! " 

They  stood  looking  at  each  other  for  a  long  minute. 
Then  the  girl  came  up  to  the  woman,  close  enough  to 
touch  her  arm. 

"Did  you  do  that?"  she  asked,  and  she  made  no 
attempt  to  hide  the  tears  that  were  in  her  eyes. 

There  was  no  answer.  The  fierce  face  before  her 
was  working  strangely. 

"  What  did  you  do  it  for  ?     It  was  not  his  money." 

"  His  money  !  " 

Into  the  eyes  there  leapt  the  fire  of  overmastering 


VISITING   THE    SIN  373 

rage.  There  had  been  passion  before,  wild,  ungovern- 
able :  this  was  of  another  nature,  the  fury  of  outraged 
love. 

"  Gal,  if  hit  warn't  for  him,  you'd  'a  come  to  your  last 
breath,"  said  the  low,  hoarse  voice.  "Du  for  him  for 
money  !  Git  away,  gal !  Git  nearer  to  hi-im.  I  hain't 
safe ! " 

Naomi  did  not  move.  Her  eyes  were  looking  into 
those  burning  depths  before  her. 

"  You  don't  understand,"  she  said.  "  I  know  it  was 
not  his  money.  But  what  was  it  ?  He  was  nothing  to 
you,  then  —  when  you  began  to  help  him.  I'm  not 
afraid  of  you,"  she  added  slowly.  "  You  love  him  better 
than  I  do.  But  we  both  love  him,  and  we^could  not 
hurt  each  other.  Why  did  you  do  it  —  before  you  knew 
and  loved  him  ?  " 

The  woman  stood  with  hands  clenched  and  face  work- 
ing. She  was  struggling  with  herself.  Suddenly  the 
fingers  unclasped,  and  the  hands  fell. 

"  Thar  was  pain  in  his  eyes,"  she  said.  "  I  couldn't 
pass  hit  by.  I  cain't  now." 

The  tears  that  had  been  swimming  in  the  girl's  eyes 
—  so  like  his  —  were  falling  freely. 

"  Tell  me,"  she  said ;  and  she  dropped  on  her  knees 
by  the  bed,  and  laid  her  hand  against  her  father's 
cheek." 

"  Hit  was  six  weeks  atter  he  come  through  with  his 
mules,"  said  the  woman  in  a  low,  strained  tone.  "I 
seed  him  when  he  fust  come  here.  I  seed  him  agin  the 
day  the  soldiers  sot  on  him,  and  forced  him  to  go  with 
'em." 

"  The  soldiers  ?     Which  ?  "  asked  Naomi. 

"The  Southerners,"  replied  the  woman  irritably. 
"  Thar  warn't  no  Union  ones  at  Big  Creek  then.  They 
come  on  him  behind  the  Gap.  He  tried  to  git  away, 
but  they  was  too  many  for  him.  Thar  was  jist  six 
weeks  between  then  and  the  day  I  seed  him  agin." 


374  VISITING   THE    SIN 

She  stopped. 

"Where?"  whispered  Naomi. 

"  In  the  Gap,  right  under  them  biggest  cliff ts.  He 
was  crawlin'  among  the  rocks  —  slippin' * —  with  the 
soldiers  huntin'  for  him  above." 

She  moved  her  brown,  skinny  fingers  expressively. 
Movement  and  words  brought  the  scene  before  the  girl. 
She  saw  her  father  creeping  through  that  wild  pass, 
darting  from  rock  to  rock,  hiding  from  the  soldiers 
above, —  risking  his  life  to  get  back  to  the  boy  and  girl 
waiting  for  him  in  the  far  away  farm-house. 

"  Yes,"  she  said  softly. 

"  They'd  done  missed  him,  and  was  a-searchin',"  con- 
tinued the  woman.  "  I  was  daown  in  the  brush  t'  other 
side  o'  Big  Creek.  I  warn't  aimin'  to  let  'em  see  me. 
He  was  jist  opposite  whar  I  was,  when  he  sot  his  foot 
on  a  rock  that  was  tol'rable  slick.  Hit  sent  him  slidin' 
aout  clar  inter  the  open.  I  knowed  he  was  done  for. 
Lor !  them  soldiers  went  for  him  like  a  streak !  The 
bullets  jist  drapped  raound  him.  He  run,  and  then 
drapped.  I  knowed  he  warn't  shammin'.  He  was  hit. 
But  he  up  and  crawled  away  a  bit  later.  They  thought 
he  was  dead,  and  was  goin'  on.  They'd  'a  left  him,  but 
thar  was  one  brute  of  a  feller  stopped  to  look  over  and 
make  sure.  He  had  to  lay  plumb  daown  to  see  whar 
he'd  crawled  to.  Lor !  I'd  'a  give  my  eyes  to  'a  been 
behind  him  jist  then.  He  seed  him  move.  Lor  me !  my 
heart  jumped  clar  inter  my  mouth  when  he  tuk  a  rock 
and  drapped  hit  daown,  plumb  atop  o'  him" 

She  stopped.  Naomi's  breath  seemed  to  have  stopped, 
too. 

"Thar,  that's  done  for  ye,  you  deserter!"  he  yelled. 
And  hit  fell  —  flop.  He  was  a  man  afore  then,  with  the 
power  to  move  himself,  if  he  was  wounded.  He  was  a 
log  atter." 

*  Stealing  away. 


VISITING   THE   SIN  375 

Naomi's  head  went  down,  and  sobs  shook  her. 

" Father !  "  she  murmured.     "And  we  never  knew." 

The  sobs  had  their  way.  The  old  woman  stood  look- 
ing at  the  father  and  daughter,  and  the  minutes  passed. 

"  Git  up,  gal.     He's  oneasy." 

The  words  broke  in  sharply  on  Naomi's  grief.  She 
lifted  her  face,  wet  with  tears,  and  looked  at  her  father. 
She  could  see  no  change. 

"  Git  up,  I  tell  ye,"  snapped  the  old  woman.  "  Hain't 
I  knowin'  better  'n  you  ? " 

"  Yes,"  said  the  girl  submissively. 

She  rose,  and  moved  back.  Old  China  Partins  took 
her  place.  With  words  caressing  as  those  of  a  mother 
to  a  sick  child  she  bent  over  him,  and  it  was  long  before 
she  stood  aside. 

"  He  shain't  be  disturbed  no  more  to-day,"  she  said 
decisively.  "  You  go  and  set  on  that  chist  yander.  He 
can  see  ye  if  he  wants,  and  you  won't  be  near  enough  to 
worry  him." 

The  "  chist "  was  an  old  walnut  construction  standing 
upon  stout  legs. 

Naomi  sat  down  upon  it  as  if  stunned.  The  world,  as 
she  knew  it  before  she  came  into  this  log  hut,  had 
vanished.  The  complexion  of  life  had  changed.  She 
experienced  a  strange  feeling  of  unreality  as  she  watched 
the  old  woman.  She  wanted  to  ask  questions  about  her 
father,  but  refrained.  She  perceived  that  the  woman 
was  acting  under  strong  excitement.  Impatience  on  her 
part  would  increase  that  excitement,  and  defeat  the  end 
she  had  in  view.  Her  heart  yearned  over  her  father,  so 
near  to  her,  and  yet  seemingly  so  hopelessly  far  removed. 
Did  he  understand  ?  It  was  hard  for  her  to  believe  that 
the  mind  was  even  partially  clear  when  the  eyes  looked 
at  her  so  uncomprehendingly. 

It  was  all  inconceivable  —  bewildering.  The  strange 
figure  moving  about  before  her  was  not  stranger  than 


376  VISITING   THE    SIN 

the  discoveries  she  had  made  since  she  sighted  the  little 
cabin.  Naomi  felt  constrained  to  watch  those  move- 
ments, every  one  of  which  revealed  something  of  the 
character  of  this  peculiar  being  who  for  fifteen  years 
had  formed  her  father's  one  link  with  life. 

She  could  only  guess  the  object  of  the  movements. 
First  a  handful  of  weeds,  each  no  thicker  than  her  finger, 
was  brought  from  the  pile  without  and  laid  across  the 
embers  of  the  fire.  Then,  with  a  skilful  breath,  the  fuel 
was  blown  into  a  flame.  Naomi  could  not  help  contrast- 
ing the  height  of  the  wood  pile  outside  with  the  dimen- 
sions of  that  handful  of  weeds. 

"  I'm  goin'  to  git  supper.     He's  needin'  hit." 

The  words  broke  the  silence. 

"You  set  jist  whar  you  air,"  continued  the  hoarse, 
carefully  guarded  voice.  "  He's  wantin'  to  see  ye.  I'll 
give  ye  some  supper." 

If  Naomi  had  had  leisure  of  mind  for  qualms  respect- 
ing the  biscuit  mixed  by  those  long,  skinny,  brown 
hands,  such  fears  were  presently  set  at  rest.  From 
beginning  to  end  of  the  preparations  the  claw-like  nails 
never  touched  the  food.  China  Partins's  biscuit  was 
mixed  with  a  spoon,  moulded  with  the  same  implement, 
and  in  like  manner  deposited  in  the  iron  pot  which  in 
due  time  she  buried  beneath  the  coals  upon  the  hearth. 
The  unsmoked  ham,  lowered  from  its  hook  in  a  beam 
above,  was  with  great  dexterity  cut  without  the  contact 
of  fingers  with  the  meat,  one  sinewy  old  hand  grasping 
the  extreme  end  of  the  bone,  while  with  a  knife  sharp 
enough  for  fell  purposes  the  other  sliced  off  layers  of 
ham  from  the  further  extremity. 

It  was  when  the  meat  was  sizzling  in  the  pan,  and  the 
old  woman,  carefully  holding  the  abnormally  long 
handle  thereof,  had  seated  herself  far  back  from  the 
hearth,  that  the  tension  was  relieved.  Then  the  silence 
that  had  throbbed  with  excitement  was  broken. 


VISITING   THE   SIN  377 

"  I've  done  watched  for  ye,  and  worked  charms  agin 
yer  comin'  for  fifteen  year,  gal,  and  thar  you  air." 

"  Watched  for  me !  " 

Naomi's  voice  was  sharp  with  surprise. 

"  Watched  !  Mercy,  warn't  thar  need  ?  Warn't  hit 
for  him  more  'n  myself  ?  Could  you  'a  done  what  I  done 
for  him, —  a  slip  of  a  gal  with  no  more  experience  than 
a  babe?" 

"No,"  replied  Naomi  gently.  "But  how  did  you 
know  anything  about  me  ? " 

China  Partins  laughed, —  a  hoarse,  angry  laugh. 

"  Shucks  !     Thar  hain't  much  I  don't  know,  gal." 

"  Did  he  tell  you  ? " 

For  a  moment  the  old  eyes  looked  at  her  savagely, 
and  the  lips  set  themselves  together.  It  was  not  easy, 
after  long  years  of  silence,  for  this  woman  to  admit  any 
into  her  confidence. 

"Maybe  he  did." 

"Then  he  could  speak  ?  "  said  Naomi.  "  Oh,  tell  me 
about  it.  I  love  him,  and  I've  lost  all  these  years  of  his 
life." 

Was  it  intuition  that  made  her  adopt  the  only  line  of 
argument  that  could  have  moved  the  strange  being  be- 
fore her  ?  The  fierce  eyes  did  not  soften,  but  the  lips 
unclosed  again  with  a  jerk. 

"He  spoke  onct.  Hit  was  afore  the  human  snake 
that  was  atter  him  fired  the  second  rock.  I  see  he  was 
aimin'  to  du  hit,  and  I  come  through  that  brush  right 
smart.  The  murderer  warn't  a-noticin'  me.  He  was 
dead  set  on  gittin'  nearer  to  hi-im.  He  had  to  come 
daown  a  mighty  steep  place.  I  crossed  Big  Creek 
plumb  afore  him,  and  he  never  seed  me.  And  then  I 
slipped, —  climbin'  them  rocks  under  cover  so's  to  git 
near  him.  I  done  hit,  and  crouched  under  one  on  'em 
right  by  him.  He  seed  me.  'You're  a  woman/  he 
says,  slow  and  painful,  'and  a  woman's  heart's  always 


378  VISITING  THE   SIN 

soft  for  the  young  uns.  I'm  dyin'.  When  I'm  gone, 
see  them  rebels  don't  git  the  money  that  belongs  to  my 
boy  and  gal.  Hit's  in  my  belt.'  'Hush!'  says  I. 
'I'll  see  to  hit.'  The  words  warn't  aout  o'  my  mouth 
when  bang  come  another  rock  plumb  on  him  agin.  He 
never  spoke  atter." 

Naomi's  face  was  white. 

"That  man?  Did  he  live?"  she  asked;  and  the 
words  came  in  a  tense  whisper. 

"Live!" 

A  low,  blood-curdling  laugh  that  at  another  time  would 
have  caused  the  girl  to  shudder  seemed  a  fit  accompani- 
ment to  the  word.  The  old  woman  grasped  the  handle 
of  the  pan  firmly,  gave  a  sharp  shake  that  deftly  turned 
every  slice  of  meat,  and  set  the  pan  back  on  the  fire. 

"  Maybe  he's  livin'  with  the  devils  he  belonged  to," 
she  said  slowly.  "He  warn't  livin'  nowhars  else  long 
atter  he  done  tha-at." 

The  light  that  leapt  into  the  girl's  eyes  was  fierce 
enough  to  be  a  match  for  that  in  the  old  ones  opposite 
to  her.  It  expressed  satisfaction, —  yes,  and  savage  de- 
light. 

"  How  did  you  do  it  ? "  she  asked. 

"He  done  hit  himself.  He  warn't  satisfied  with 
knockin'  him  aout  of  all  shape :  he  wanted  to  make  sure 
thar  warn't  a  spark  o'  life  left.  He  come  tearin'  daown 
between  them  boulders.  And,  as  he  come  daown,  I 
watched  my  chance  and  crept  up.  I  knowed  whar  he 
was  aimin'  to  stop, —  right  on  a  flat  stone  over  whar  he 
lay.  He  could  lay  him  daown  on  that,  and  lean  over  and 
shoot.  I  got  thar  fust,  and  drawed  back  behind  a  bit  of 
risin'  ground.  He  co-ome.  I  knowed  he  would.  And 
he  laid  himself  daown  flat,  and  looked  over  with  a  leer 
on  his  face.  That  thar  was  the  last  o'  hi-im,  so  fur  as 
this  world  was  concerned." 

She  stopped. 


VISITING  THE   SIN  379 

"  How  did  you  do  it  ? "  asked  Naomi  breathlessly. 

"  I  had  a  knife, —  a  right  smart  good  knife.  I  hain't 
a  babe.  I  got  some  strength.  If  hit  warn't  druv  clar 
through  his  heart,  hit  warn't  the  fault  o'  my  arm.  Lor ! 
he  hadn't  time  to  yell  afore  he  was  done  sent  outer  this 
world." 

The  girl  drew  a  long  breath.  She  had  seen  every 
movement,  as  the  long,  sinewy  arm  acted  out  the  scene 
before  her. 

"And  then  you  brought  him  home,  here,"  she  said 
after  a  short,  expressive  silence. 

"  Thar  was  the  rocks  to  move  fust,"  said  the  woman. 
"They  was  wedged  in.  Gal,  I  thought  I  was  strong 
till  then.  Thar's  a  heap  o'  weight  in  rocks." 

"  Yes,"  replied  Naomi. 

"  Lor !  you  don't  know,"  said  the  old  woman  con- 
temptuously. "You  hain't  never  put  yerself  under 
them  and  lifted  till  the  blood  poured  out  from  yer  nose  and 
the  sweat  rolled  daown  yer  face  in  streams.  I  warn't 
as  strong  as  a  kitten  when  I  done  got  them  rocks  offn 
him." 

She  stood  up  and  took  the  pan  from  the  fire,  which 
had  been  replenished  with  another  handful  of  weeds. 
Then  she  carried  it  to  the  table,  and  with  one  shake 
transferred  its  contents  to  a  plate. 

"I've  done  got  to  'tend  toki-im  fust/'  she  said. 

She  fed  him  like  a  baby.  He  ate  without  sign  of 
appreciation  or  enjoyment.  The  tears  rolled  quietly 
down  Naomi's  cheeks  as  she  saw  the  completeness  of 
the  wreck  that  the  savage  instincts  of  war  had  wrought. 

"You  can  come  and  set  daown  at  the  table.  He 
won't  notice  you  no  more.  Hit's  done  passed, —  that 
noticin'  time,"  said  the  old  woman  at  last. 

"  What  do  you  mean  ? "  asked  Naomi,  as  she  came 
obediently  forward. 

"  Thar  hain't  one  day  in  ten  he  notices  things  as  he's 


380  VISITING   THE   SIN 

done  to-day,"  was  the  reply.  "  Thar  '11  be  days  naow 
when  he  won't  take  no  'count  o'  nothin'.  Nary  thing 
can  rouse  him  them  times.  They  come  as  sure  as  dark- 
ness atter  sunset,  when  he's  had  a  noticin'  turn  this 
away." 

"  Poor  father !  " 

Naomi  forced  herself  to  eat,  that  she  might  not  dis- 
please her  hostess.  Her  mind  was  revolving  plans  for 
the  future.  How  could  she  part  these  two,  after  years 
of  loving  service  on  the  part  of  this  woman  who  was  a 
stranger  ? 

"  You  hain't  no  right  to  du  hit !  You  cairit  du 
hit ! " 

Were  the  low-spoken,  decisive  words  an  answer  to  her 
thought  ?  She  looked  up  hastily. 

"  He  belongs  to  me  more  'n  he  does  to  you,"  continued 
the  hoarse  voice. 

There  was  defiance  in  the  statement. 

"He belongs  to  us  both,"  said  Naomi  quietly.  "  I  am 
his  child :  you  are  the  saver  of  his  life.  What  shall  we 
do?" 

"You  can  come,  as  often  as  you've  a  mind,"  said  the 
old  woman.  "  I've  kep'  this  house  shet  agin  everybody, 
friend  and  foe,  for  fifteen  year.  Hit  warn't  safe  for  ary 
man  or  woman  to  know  he  was  here.  I  warn't  aimin*  to 
lose  him.  And  I  warn't  aimin'  to  share  him  with  no- 
body. Butjj/0«  can  come." 

The  words  came  slowly,  as  if  the  concession  were 
wrenched  bit  by  bit  out  of  the  old  heart.  Naomi  looked 
at  her  doubtfully. 

"  He  is  my  father,"  she  said.  "  I  have  wanted  him  so 
long." 

"  What  is  he  to  me  ?  Can  you  tend  him  as  I  can  ? 
Gal,  you  shairit  rob  me.  If  hit  was  your  life  or  hi-im, 
hit  wouldn't  take  the  first  half  of  a  lightnin'  flash  to 
decide  between  'em." 


VISITING   THE    SIN  381 

The  words  were  low,  but  they  thrilled  through  the 
girl's  nerves.  She  did  not  resent  them.  She  could  not, 
in  the  presence  of  that  old,  bent  figure,  that  throbbed 
and  quivered  with  love  for  the  helpless  man  between 
whom  and  death  it  had  stood  for  all  these  years  as  the 
sole  barrier. 

"  I  don't  want.  I  shall  never  try,"  she  said.  "  What- 
ever we  decide,  it  must  be  what  we  both  see  is  best.  I 
owe  you  too  much  to  forget  your  claim." 

"  I  won't  live  without  him,  gal ! " 

It  was  her  final  decision,  and  Naomi  knew  it. 

"Let  it  rest,"  she  said.  "I  have  no  thought  of  dis- 
puting your  claim.  I  could  not.  I  must  talk  to  my 
brother." 

She  spoke  wearily.  The  strain  of  excitement  was 
telling  upon  her. 

"I  will  go  now,"  she  said,  "and  come  back  again  to- 
morrow. It  would  be  presumption  to  thank  you." 

"I  hain't  wantin'  your  thanks." 

"No,  I  know.  They  are  too  small.  You  did  it  for 
hi-im,  and  for  nothing  else." 

She  went  over  to  the  bed,  and  pressed  one  long  kiss 
on  the  manly  forehead.  The  face  was  still  as  a  statue. 
She  turned  from  it  with  a  sob,  and  without  a  word 
passed  out  into  the  daylight. 

Was  it  only  a  few  hours  ago  that  she  stood  on  the  hill 
looking  down  upon  that  cabin  ?  Only  this  morning  that 
she  met  Norah  Felps  ? 

There  came  again  that  quick  contraction  of  the  heart 
as  the  image  of  Norah  moved  across  the  vision.  Down 
upon  her  like  an  avalanche  rushed  the  memory  of  the 
past  months, —  of  Marshall  Lane  Rutherford  and  Abner 
Poteet  and  Norah  Felps.  She  had  set  herself  to  drive 
out  of  Big  Creek  valley  all  related  to  Kennedy  Poteet, 
on  the  charge  that  he  had  murdered  her  father.  With 
a  firm  hand  she  had  visited  upon  the  family  of  the  dead 


382  VISITING   THE   SIN 

man  an  uncommitted  sin.  The  colour  blazed  across  her 
face,  and  then  left  it  very  white.  She  had  been  so  sure. 

Naomi  knew  little  of  how  the  distance  between  the 
Gap  and  the  boarding-house  was  passed.  She  saw  noth- 
ing and  heard  nothing  of  all  that  was  about  her  until  a 
footstep  sounded  immediately  behind.  It  was  just  as 
she  was  turning  from  the  valley  road  into  the  hill  path 
to  the  mill.  There  was  no  need  for  her  to  ask  to  whom 
the  step  belonged.  She  had  come  to  know  it  well  in 
the  days  when  Marshall  Lane  Rutherford  was  her  guest 
at  the  boarding-house. 

His  "good  evening"  was  very  grave.  Naomi  could 
find  in  it  no  trace  of  animosity.  Was  it  possible  that  it 
would  have  pleased  her  better  if  she  had  ?  What  was  it 
she  missed  in  that  quiet,  manly  greeting?  The  eyes 
that  for  a  moment  looked  at  her  had  in  them  none  of 
the  light  that  was  there  before  his  illness.  There  was 
neither  reproach  nor  entreaty  to  be  discovered  in  them 
to-day.  Was  the  girl's  heart  right  when  it  translated 
the  expression  of  those  eyes,  and  whispered  "indiffer- 
ence "  ? 

Not  altogether,  perhaps.  The  heart  that  loves  is  too 
susceptible  to  the  faintest  influence  to  be  a  reliable 
guide.  Barometer-like,  it  feels  the  change  that  is  only  ap- 
proaching. Marshall  Rutherford  had  not  yet  come  to 
the  time  when  he  could  meet  this  girl  with  indifference ; 
but,  as  he  passed  her  to-day,  he  fully  realised  that  she 
had  lost  the  power  to  set  the  chords  of  joy  or  pain  vi- 
brating anew.  She  had  not  yet  become  to  him  exactly  as 
other  girls.  The  consciousness  of  what  might  have  been 
remained,  as  well  as  the  forcible  remembrance  of  what 
had  been.  His  memories  of  this  girl  were  potent ;  but 
he  realised  to-day  that  it  was  rather  as  a  memory  than 
as  a  personality  that  she  drew  him  towards  her.  His 
thoughts  went  back  to  the  days  when  he  set  himself 
to  know  the  girl  who  was  turning  the  feeling  in  Big 


VISITING  THE  SIN  383 

Creek  Gap  strongly  against  his  cousin.  He  looked  long 
and  steadily  at  the  individuality  he  had  found  then,  the 
girl  who  had  made  his  heart  speak  louder  than  his  judg- 
ment when  it  suggested  that  there  was  a  way  to  con- 
vince the  young,  strong  will,  and  to  turn  it  aside  from  its 
determined  purpose. 

Memory  went  on  to  the  time  when  judgment  was  vindi- 
cated, and  the  heart  shown  its  foolishness.  They  were 
two  very  different  pictures,  these  that  memory  drew  of 
the  girl  as  he  first  knew  her  and  the  same  girl  when  she 
set  her  face  like  a  flint  against  him,  and  turned  upon 
him,  as  well  as  upon  his  cousin,  the  full  force  of  an  an- 
tagonistic public  sentiment. 

Between  his  eyes  and  the  face  he  had  just  passed 
there  slowly  came  another,  young,  tender,  with  a  yearn- 
ing, sorrowful  look  in  it,  as  he  had  seen  it  last,  not  an  hour 
ago.  It  was  the  face  of  one  who  might  know  love  and 
anger,  and  even  passion,  but  who  could  never  be  steadily 
vindictive,  as  could  that  other. 

"Norah,  my  girl,  I'm  content  with  the  change,"  he 
said,  and  went  on  with  a  quickened  step. 

He  had  been  too  much  engrossed  to  hear  the  voice 
that  had  spoken  his  name.  It  is  true  the  sound  lacked 
the  decisive  ring  of  Naomi's  usual  utterances.  It  died 
away  quickly.  It  had  come  quickly,  as  an  afterthought, 
when  the  mind  had  turned  from  its  analysis  of  Marshall's 
greeting.  It  came  too  late. 


384  VISITING   THE    SIN 


CHAPTER    XXVI 

"T  UCKY  you  didn't  happen  to  be  a  moment  later. 
The  search  party  was  tolerable  near  ready  to 
JLJstart.  Half  Big  Creek  was  plumb  crazy  to  set 
aout  to  look  for  you." 

Will  Hollingsworth  met  Naomi  at  the  door.  Though 
there  was  a  laugh  in  his  eyes,  they  were  keenly  search- 
ing the  girl's  face. 

"  Didn't  you  get  your  supper  ? "  she  asked  coldly. 

"  Supper ! "  he  retorted.  "  Do  you  in  your  calm 
senses  believe  that  anything  so  commonplace  and  com- 
fortable as  supper  could  enter  into  ary  person's  mind 
while  you-u  were  away,  nobody  knew  where  ?  " 

"Then  you'd  better  go  and  eat  it  now,"  she  said. 
"  There  is  nothing  to  shame  your  appetite  at  the  present 
moment.  I  am  perfectly  safe,  so  you  may  enjoy  your 
supper  with  a  clear  conscience." 

"  Oh,  supper  has  been  over  this  hour,"  he  said.  Then 
in  a  different  tone :  "  Naomi,  what  is  it  ?  Something 
has  troubled  you." 

She  turned  her  eyes  full  upon  him.  The  coldness  in 
them  sent  a  chill  over  the  enthusiasm  of  his  feeling. 
How  was  it  that  the  days,  as  they  passed,  seemed  to  put 
this  girl  further  from  him  instead  of  bringing  her  nearer  ? 

He  had  never  recovered  the  position  lost  by  his  attack 
upon  Marshall  Rutherford.  Only  once  after  the  even- 
ing on  which  she  confronted  him  with  his  action  in  that 
very  questionable  affair  had  Naomi  spoken  upon  the 
subject.  It  was  on  the  following  day.  She  stopped 
him  as  he  was  leaving  the  house  after  breakfast. 

"  I  was  short-sighted  enough  at  one  time  to  enter  into 


VISITING   THE    SIN  385 

a  compact  with  you  that  was  plumb  certain  to  make  a 
fool  of  me,"  she  said.  "It  has  done  it.  I  have  had 
enough  of  it.  For  the  future  let  the  quarrel  be  all  my 
own.  I  shall  know  what  to  do  with  it  to  suit  my  own 
taste  —  and  my  own  ideas  of  honour.  Hounding  sick 
men  to  death  meets  neither." 

He  did  not  attempt  to  defend  himself,  though  there 
was  a  gleam  in  his  eye  and  a  movement  of  his  lips  that 
pointed  to  neither  calmness  nor  indifference. 

"You  are  unjust,"  he  said.  "I  have  been  your  de- 
voted servant.  If  I  have  gone  further  than  you  would 
have  done,  it  was  only  through  zeal  in  your  cause.  You 
may  say  what  you  will,  and  think  what  you  will ;  I 
shall  be  your  servant  still." 

She  turned  from  him  and  walked  carelessly  away. 
And  he  ignored  the  ground  of  offence,  and  forced  her 
into  something  of  the  old  relations.  But  he  had  never 
recovered  his  lost  footing. 

To-night  there  was  hot  anger  in  his  heart.  What 
did  the  girl  mean  by  keeping  him  at  arm's  length  like 
this  ?  Did  she  think  he  had  served  her  for  naught  ? 
Did  she  suppose  he  had  let  her  have  her  own  way,  given 
in  to  her  merest  caprice,  to  be  set  aside  thus  lightly  at 
her  pleasure,  put  on  the  footing  of  the  commonest  ac- 
quaintance ? 

"If  you  do,  you  ain't  knowing  Will  Hollingsworth 
yet,"  he  said ;  but  he  said  it  very  much  in  the  secret 
places  of  his  own  heart. 

To  all  appearance  he  was  waiting  patiently  for  her 
answer  to  his  sympathetic  question.  It  was  long  in 
coming. 

"  There  is  nothing  that  need  bother  you-u, —  nothing 
that  will  in  ary  way  affect  your  interests,"  she  said 
slowly,  and  would  have  passed  on,  but  he  took  a  quick 
step  forward,  and  stood  in  the  way. 

"  Nothing  that  will  affect  me  ?  "  he  said.     "  Naomi, 


386  VISITING   THE    SIN 

don't  you  know  that  everything  that  touches  you  affects 


me  t " 

« No  —  I  did  not  know  it,"  she  said  quietly.  "  I 
do  not  believe  it.  And  if  it  were  true,  this  is  the  worst 
possible  time  to  tell  it  me.  You  are  right.  Something 
has  put  me  aout.  I  am  in  a  bad  temper.  You  had 
better  go  and  eat  your  supper." 

She  turned  aside  and  passed  him,  going  upstairs  to 
her  own  room.  He  stood  looking  after  her,  a  deepen- 
ing scowl  on  his  face.  Two  minutes  later  she  had  for- 
gotten him,  except  as  an  acknowledged  participator  in 
the  hot-headed  quarrel  with  a  dead  man  which  had  left 
her  tingling  with  shame  and  burdened  with  remorse. 

By  the  discoveries  of  to-day  the  whole  motive  of  life 
at  Big  Creep  Gap  was  changed.  Life  at  Big  Creek 
Gap !  It  had  been  one  immense  blunder.  She  had 
begun  it  full  of  determined  confidence,  sure  of  her  own 
position  and  her  power  of  judgment.  Her  decision 
allowed  of  neither  doubt  nor  dissent.  Kennedy  Poteet 
was  her  father's  murderer,  and  she  was  fulfilling  a 
daughter's  duty  in  dragging  down  upon  him  and  his 
every  form  of  obloquy.  To-day  she  was  a  convicted 
blunderer, —  "something  worse  than  a  fool,"  as  she 
admitted  scornfully. 

The  hot  blood  surged  over  her  face  as  she  recalled 
her  last  interview  in  that  house  with  Marshall  Lane 
Rutherford.  "  You  have  no  cause  to  plead,"  she  had 
said.  How  completely  the  tables  were  turned  she  did 
not  need  that  any  should  tell  her. 

She  had  fastened  her  door  and  walked  with  a  steady 
step  half  across  the  room.  Then  she  had  stopped, 
where  the  light  from  the  window  fell  upon  her, — 
stopped  to  face  the  situation.  She  was  standing  there 
when  daylight  took  its  last  lingering  look  into  the  room. 
She  was  standing  there  when  the  stars  grew  bright  in 
the  deep  night  blue  of  the  sky. 


VISITING   THE   SIN  387 

It  was  "a  pretty  night,"  as  pretty  as  the  one  on 
which  she  had  refused  to  go  with  Marshall  down  to  the 
old  house  in  the  hollow.  Except  for  the  absence  of  the 
moon,  and  the  increased  heat  of  the  air,  there  was  little 
difference.  But  since  that  night  all  her  world  had 
changed.  Dalbert  was  working  his  way  alone.  She 
had  seen  him  but  once  since  his  accident,  and  the  meet- 
ing had  been  cold  and  unsatisfactory.  Dalbert  could 
not  forgive  his  sister  for  her  part  in  the  act  which,  but 
for  the  intervention  of  another  girl,  would  have  cost 
Marshall  Rutherford  his  life.  The  old  tie  between  the 
brother  and  sister  seemed  broken  for  ever. 

Lem  never  passed  her  without  a  lifting  of  the  head 
that  revealed  his  inexpressible  scorn  for  the  girl  who  had 
so  far  missed  the  highest  of  life's  ideals  as  to  prefer  a 
residence  at  the  boarding-house,  with  Will  Hollings- 
worth,  to  a  share  in  the  destiny  of  Dalbert  Mozingo. 
She  had  never  felt  entirely  out  of  sympathy  with  Lem 
in  the  controversy.  To-night  she  agreed  with  him  un- 
reservedly. 

The  pursuit  of  justice  had  loomed  very  big  that  evening 
when  she  put  it  and  Marshall  Lane  Rutherford  side  by 
side,  and  let  her  prejudices  decide  the  choice.  It 
dwindled  to  a  mere  trick  word  as  she  stood  now,  at  the 
end  of  the  chase,  and  realised  that  she  had  pursued  and 
overtaken  a  shadow. 

Justice !  A  fine  name  for  the  persecution  of  an 
innocent  man !  So  far  as  she  had  any  right  to  judge 
him,  Kennedy  Poteet  stood  acquitted  to-night.  And 
what  of  his  son  —  the  man  she  had  followed  like  a 
bloodhound ?  "If  ever  thar  was  an  innocent  man,  hit's 
Abner  Poteet."  The  words  sounded  as  plainly  in  her 
ears  as  when  Marshall  Rutherford  stood  looking  into  her 
face  with  those  keen,  reproachful  eyes  as  he  said  them. 
There  was  no  more  possibility  of  denying  the  innocence. 
And  she  had  pursued  him  with  high-sounding  words  of 


388  VISITING   THE    SIN 

justice,  and  with  implacable  hatred.  And  through  it  all 
her  father  was  living, —  close  to  her. 

It  was  no  wonder  the  quiet  "  good  evening  "  of  Mar- 
shall's greeting  lingered  in  her  ears  as  a  seal  upon  the 
accomplished  past.  She  had  wrought  that  past  herself, 
moulded  it  after  her  own  pattern.  His  acceptance  of  it 
and  its  consequences  was  made  known  to  her  in  the  calm 
indifference  of  those  formal  words.  She  had  nothing  to 
complain  of.  She  had  been  in  dead  earnest  in  her 
determination  to  visit  the  sin  of  Kennedy  Poteet  upon 
his  kinsmen,  and  by  a  strange  fatality  her  own  heart  had 
been  in  the  path  of  the  blow. 

A  big,  bright  star  was  shining  straight  into  the  girl's 
eyes,  had  been  shining  into  them  for  a  long  time,  but 
she  had  not  seen  it.  Now  she  walked  to  the  window 
and  looked  out.  She  had  turned  from  the  past  to  the 
future. 

"  I  must  see  Dalbert  to-morrow,"  she  said,  and  with 
the  words  a  rush  of  longing  affection  went  out  towards 
the  brother  who  until  now  had  always  been  one  with 
her  in  every  plan. 

"And  Will  Hollingsworth  must  find  another  house- 
keeper." 

The  words  came  later,  after  a  long  silence.  There 
was  in  them  a  tone  of  relief. 

She  stood  before  the  open  window,  and  the  night  air 
blew  in  upon  her.  Her  thoughts  had  gone  to  her 
father ;  and  the  hard,  strained  look  faded. 

"  Poor  father ! "  she  said,  and  as  she  spoke  she 
dropped  upon  her  knees,  and  lifted  up  her  face  to  the 
starlight.  Just  then  across  the  valley  came  the  low 
sighing  sound  of  the  rising  wind.  It  blew  damp  and 
cold  on  the  girl's  head.  The  chill  had  already  entered 
into  her  life. 

The  same  cool  night  air  had  earlier  found  its  way 
into  Abner  Poteet's  cabin.  Marshall  Rutherford  rose, 


VISITING   THE    SIN  389 

and  put  a  stick  of  wood  upon  the  embers  yet  smoulder- 
ing on  the  hearth.  Abner  got  up  too. 

"I'm  goin'  to  lueke  atter  the  mules,"  he  said. 
"You'll  hev  to  see  to  them  to-morrer.  They'll  be 
luekin'  for  their  food  reg'lar.  You  won't  forgit  'em  ?  " 
he  added.  "  They  hain't  used  to  neglect." 

He  stopped  in  the  middle  of  the  floor,  and  looked  at 
his  cousin.  The  rugged,  sensitive  face  wore  a  look  of 
expectancy. 

"  Nonsense !  You'll  feed  them  yourself  to-morrow, 
as  you've  done  to-day,"  replied  Marshall  cheerily.  "I 
don't  take  no  account  of  that  dream." 

"  Hit'll  come  true,"  said  Ab  quietly. 

Marshall  looked  at  him  fixedly.  He  was  thinking  of 
the  girl  he  had  passed  that  afternoon,  and  of  her  uncon- 
querable hatred  of  this  man. 

"  Hit  takes  more  than  a  dream  to  kill  a  man,"  he 
said.  "  Look  at  me.  Hit  might  have  been  all  up  with 
me  if  some  people  had  had  their  way,  but  I'm  alive 
yet." 

"  The  curse  warn't  on  you,"  replied  Ab  ;  and  he  went 
out  into  the  darkness. 

Under  the  stars  he  stopped.  Darkness  had  no  terrors 
for  him  to-night.  The  unseen  world  was  so  near  now 
that  it  had  lost  its  vague  alarms.  He  drank  in  the  cool 
night  air. 

"  Thar  shall  be  no  more  curse,"  he  said,  looking  into 
the  clear,  deep  blue  of  the  sky. 

Two  hours  later  all  Big  Creek  was  abed,  but  Mar- 
shall and  Abner  still  sat  by  the  fire. 

"  Thar  hain't  nary  face  on  earth  like  hern." 

The  words  broke  a  long  silence.  Marshall  looked  up 
slowly. 

"  I  know  hit,"  he  said. 

The  silence  fell  again.  Only  the  crackle  of  burning 
wood  marked  the  passage  of  time. 


390  VISITING   THE    SIN 

"  Ab,  old  boy,  you'd  better  'a  gone  in  and  won,"  said 
Marshall  at  last.  "  Not  but  that  I  should  have  been 
the  loser.  But  you've  known  her  longer  than  I  have." 

Abner's  eyes  took  to  themselves  a  tender  light. 

"  I  couldn't,"  he  said.  "  I  was  carin*  too  much  abaout 
he-er.  Hit'd  'a  hurt  me  more  to  be  fear  in'  the  curse 
should  fall  on  her  than  to  shet  her  clar  aout  o'  my  life. 
She  warn't  for  me.  But  she's  for  you,  Marshall  —  and 
thar's  no  more  curse." 

The  last  words  came  with  a  triumphant  ring.  For  a 
minute  his  face  was  radiant.  Then  his  head  drooped, 
and  he  gazed  steadily  into  the  fire. 

«  Tell  her  good-by  for  me,  Marshall.  The  last  stroke  '11 
soon  fall." 

The  voice  had  grown  weary.  A  long  time  had  passed 
since  he  spoke  last.  Had  the  old  fight  for  renunciation 
been  waged  again  in  those  minutes  wherein  only  the  fire 
had  represented  the  activity  of  life  and  thought  ? 

Marshall  looked  up. 

"  Ab,"  he  said,  "  if  what  you  think  should  come  true, — 
and  mind  you,  I  don't  believe  hit, —  you  may  rest  assured 
that  while  my  arm  can  ward  off  evil,  no  curse  shall  ever 
fall  on  her.  You  love  her,  Ab, —  and  so  do  I." 

If  Marshall  had  been  asking  the  question  of  his 
own  heart  that  night,  it  had  given  him  no  uncertain 
answer. 

The  fire  shot  up  a  tongue  of  flame.  The  two  men 
looked  into  each  other's  faces.  Then  Abner's  hand 
went  out  and  grasped  that  of  his  cousin. 

"Hit's  all  as  hit  should  be,"  he  said.  "Thar  won't 
no  suspicion  of  dishonour  fall  on  her  naow.  You-u  hain't 
his  son." 

The  pressure  of  his  fingers  relaxed. 

"I'll  go  to  bed,"  he  said.  "My  head's  got  a  swim- 
min'  in  hit." 

It   was   nearly  morning  when    Marshall   fell   asleep. 


VISITING   THE    SIN  391 

His  last  look  at  Abner  showed  him  the  tender,  mournful 
eyes  still  gazing  expectantly  into  the  semi-darkness  of 
the  cabin.  When  he  awoke,  the  sun  was  streaming  in 
at  the  window.  He  lifted  himself  up  and  looked  at  his 
cousin.  The  "last  stroke"  had  fallen.  The  "visitin"' 
was  ended. 

The  men  had  been  at  work  for  half  an  hour  that  morn- 
ing when  Will  Hollingsworth  went  to  the  door  of  the 
mill  to  look  out. 

"  Ah  !  I  thought  as  much,"  he  said,  and  walked  briskly 
over  to  the  boarding-house. 

Naomi  stood  upon  the  steps,  giving  some  last  instruc- 
tions to  the  elderly  assistant  whose  presence  made  it 
possible  for  her  to  leave  her  household  duties  so  early. 

"What  are  you  up  to  now,  I  wonder?"  said  Will, 
carrying  on  a  mental  conversation  while  his  eyes  were 
busy  with  the  face  and  figure  of  the  girl.  "  You  don't 
go  aout  at  this  time  of  day  for  nothing." 

"  You're  abroad  early,"  he  said  aloud. 

"  Do  you  call  this  early  ? "  she  asked  indifferently. 

"  Well  —  ye-es,  for  a  busy  person  like  the  housekeeper 
for  the  mill,"  he  said. 

Her  eyes  turned  upon  him  with  a  flash  in  them. 

"  The  boarding-house  can  take  care  of  itself  now,"  she 
said  slowly.  "  You  ain't  plumb  in  need  of  me  ary  longer. 
Mrs.  Tiller  can  cook  for  you  as  well  as  I  ca-an.  I'm 
aimin'  to  let  her  do  it.  I'm  going  to  see  Da-al." 

"  How  long  are  you  aimin'  to  let  her  do  it  ? "  he  asked  ; 
and  there  was  a  hardening  of  his  face  that  did  not  escape 
the  girl's  eyes. 

"For  ever  —  if  she's  a  mi-ind  to,  and  you've  a  mind 
to  let  her,"  she  said  quietly. 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  that  ?  " 

He  had  stopped  in  front  of  her,  and  stood  looking  up 
into  her  eyes.  Her  position  on  the  lower  of  the  two 
steps  gave  her  an  advantage  over  him. 


392  VISITING   THE    SIN 

"  I'm  going  to  see  Dal,  she  said.  "  I  think  he  needs 
a  housekeeper  more  than  you  do." 

"You're  aimin'  to  leave  the  boarding-house  —  and 
me?" 

She  laughed  —  a  low,  cold  laugh. 

"  You  take  it  tragically,"  she  said.  "  Did  you  suppose 
I  was  going  to  leave  Dal  to  his  own  devices  for  ever  ? 
It  did  not  answer  my  purpose  to  run  the  risk  of  starving 
with  him ;  but  he  is  making  a  fair  crop,  and  it's  time  we 
turned  our  attention  to  earning  more  money  than  he's 
doing  that  way.  We  didn't  come  to  Big  Creek  Gap  to 
hang  round  and  do  nothing  for  ever." 

She  looked  at  him  with  eyes  that  were  calmly  critical. 

"  And  am  I  to  count  for  nothing  ?  " 

She  gave  her  shoulders  a  little  expressive  movement, 
and  looked  at  him  with  a  smile. 

"  Mercy,  no !  "  she  said.  "  You  count  for  a  right 
smart  —  to  yourself." 

"  And  for  nothing  to  you  ?  " 

He  could  not  keep  the  passion  out  of  his  eyes,  though 
he  tried  hard. 

"To  me-e,"  she  said,  with  a  long,  reflective  drawl. 
"  Haven't  I  shown  how  much  you  count  for  by  carrying 
my  philanthropy  to  the  point  of  sacrificing  Dal  to  his 
fate?  But  my  zeal  is  abating.  You  are  in  no  more 
danger  of  starving.  Mrs.  Tiller  will  see  to  that." 

She  lifted  her  foot  to  descend  the  step.  He  stopped 
her  by  laying  his  hand  on  her  arm. 

"  Do  you  think  I  care  about  tha-at  ? "  he  asked 
vehemently.  "Do  you  suppose  I  built  the  boarding- 
house  simply  that  I  might  get  better  dinners  and  break- 
fasts? Naomi,  I  built  that  house  because  I  wanted 
you-u." 

"  Your  wants  are  large,"  she  returned  lightly. 

"They  are, —  very,"  he  said.  "Naomi,  I  want  the 
biggest  thing  in  this  world.  Can  I  have  it  ?  " 


VISITING   THE    SIN  393 

Certainly  —  if  you  can  get  it,"  she  replied,  and 
stepped  down  upon  the  ground. 

"I  am  going  to  get  it,"  he  said.  "Naomi,  I  want 
you-u" 

She  turned  upon  him  eyes  that  had  a  laugh  in  them. 

"  Your  wants  are  plumb  aout  of  all  reason,"  she  said. 
"  Even  Will  Hollingsworth  cannot  have  ev-erything  he 
sets  his  heart  on." 

"  It's  dead  set  on  you-u." 

The  arrogance  had  gone  from  his  voice.  It  sounded 
as  if  he  were  in  earnest. 

"  That  is  unfortunate,"  she  said. 

"Why?" 

"  Because  it  will  have  to  be  unset." 

He  looked  at  her  fixedly  for  a  moment. 

"Naomi,"  he  said,  "go  and  see  Dal,  and  then  come 
back  to  be  mistress  of  the  boarding-house.  Tell  Dal  to 
come  back  too  —  if  he's  a  mind.  I  don't  care  who's 
here,  or  who's  not  here,  so  long  as  I  have  you." 

"  He  would  not  come,"  said  Naomi  calmly.  "  It 
would  not  meet  his  wishes  —  nor  mine." 

"  Naomi ! " 

She  met  his  gaze  fully,  but  made  him  no  answer. 

"  I  want  you,"  he  said  vehemently.  "  I  have  wanted 
you  ever  since  you  came  to  Big  Creek  Gap.  Don't 
you  know  that  that  was  why  I  desired  to  serve  you,  be- 
cause by  so  doing  I  should  serve  myself  ?  " 

"Very  disinterested,"  she  commented,  musingly. 

"  Disinterested  ?  Do  you  suppose  anybody  could  be 
disinterested  where  you  are  concerned  ? "  he  demanded. 
"  I  never  was,  and  never  shall  be.  I've  worked  for  you 
—  faithfully.  I  want  my  pay.  Let  me  go  and  tell  Dal 
to  come  down  for  the  wedding.  Then  he  can  go  back, 
or  stay,  as  he  pleases." 

"  You  want  pay  —  for  serving  me-e  ?  " 

Her  eyes  were  flashing  scornfully  into  his. 


394  VISITING   THE    SIN 

"  Yes,"  he  said.  "  There  was  one  reward  I  worked 
for  from  the  beginning.  I  claim  it  now." 

"  You  are  powerful  modest,"  she  said,  in  a  low,  slow 
drawl.  "I'm  plumb  astonished  you  should  ask  so  little 
for  what  you-u've  done.  The  man  that's  made  a  fool  of 
himself  and  me-e  before  all  Big  Creek  Gap  has  a  right 
to  lueke  for  something  bigger  in  the  way  of  reward." 

"  Naomi,  you  don't  mean  it,"  he  remonstrated.  "  You 
know  how  untiringly  I've  worked  for  you.  Big  Creek 
Gap  would  never  have  turned  against  Kennedy  Poteet 
and  all  belonging  to  him  in  the  way  it  has  done  if  I 
hadn't  used  fair  means  and  foul  to  accomplish  my  end." 

"Mean  it  ?  "  she  said,  ignoring  all  but  his  first  words. 
"  I  mean,  and  have  long  meant,  that  I  stumbled  upon 
the  biggest  mistake  of  my  life  when  I  made  it  possible 
for  you  or  ary  other  man  to  make  a  fool  of  me-e." 

The  passion  was  in  his  face  now.  He  no  longer 
tried  to  hide  it." 

"  And  you  answer  me  thus,  after  all  I  have  done  ? " 
he  said,  in  a  low,  angry  tone. 

She  looked  at  him  with  a  slow,  enigmatical  smile. 

"  I  answer  you  thus  —  after  all  you  have  done;'  she 
said. 

"  And  you  think  this  is  the  end  of  it  ? "  The  words 
burst  from  his  lips  red  hot  with  rage.  "  You  are  mis- 
taken. I've  worked  for  a  reward.  You  owe  it  to  me, 
and  I'll  have  it." 

She  smiled  again,  and  walked  on.  And  he  stood 
looking  after  her,  rage  and  disappointment  so  unmis- 
takably evident  in  his  face  that  the  old  woman  who  was 
left  to  keep  house  muttered  as  she  peered  through  the 
window :  "  They're  a-quarrellin'.  Lor' !  hit  hain't  no 
gue-ude  his  duin'  tha-at.  She's  more  'n  a  match  for 
hi-im." 

Naomi  had  said  she  was  going  to  see  Dal.  It  was 
true ;  yet  her  feet,  when  she  left  the  mill,  did  not  lead 


VISITING   THE    SIN  395 

her  in  the  direction  of  the  Ridges.  Down  in  the  valley 
road  she  paused  for  a  moment,  and  then  turned  towards 
Abner  Poteet's  cottage. 

The  gate  was  shut,  and  she  fumbled  for  a  minute 
over  the  latch.  She  heard  the  door  of  the  house  open, 
and  felt,  rather  than  saw,  that  it  was  not  the  owner  of 
the  dwelling  who  was  coming  towards  her. 

"  I'll  open  hit  for  you." 

She  lifted  her  head  with  a  proud  gesture,  and  met  the 
eyes  of  Marshall  Rutherford. 

"  I  wanted  to  see  you  and  Abner  Poteet,"  she  said. 
"  I  wanted  to  tell  Abner  that  I  did  him  a  wrong  when  I 
judged  him  and  his  father." 

"  Yes,  you  did  him  a  wrong,"  said  Marshall ;  and  voice 
and  manner  were  grave  to  sadness. 

He  was  holding  the  gate  open  for  her.     She  went  in. 

"  I  have  been  mistaken,"  she  said  slowly.  "  So  far  as 
I  am  concerned,  I  have  nothing  to  say  against  any  of 
the  household  of  Poteet.  The  old  man  may  or  may  not 
have  done  wrong.  It  is  not  for  me  to  judge.  My  father 
is  living." 

He  showed  little  surprise.  His  mind  seemed  pre-en- 
grossed. 

"  I  am  glad  —  for  your  sake,"  he  said.  Then  after  a 
moment :  "  You  wanted  to  tell  Abner  ? " 

"Yes.  -I  did  him  an  injustice.  It  is  but  right  it 
should  be  acknowledged." 

He  was  looking  at  her  with  a  strange  expression  upon 
his  face. 

"  Miss  Mozingo,"  he  said,  "  I  tried  once  to  tell  you 
something  of  the  character  of  the  man  to  whom  you 
did  this  injustice.  May  I  tell  you  to-day  ? " 

A  slight  movement  of  the  head  was  her  only  answer. 

"Abner,  like  you,"  continued  Marshall,  "was  im- 
pressed with  the  certainty  of  his  father's  guilt.  When 
very  young,  he  saw  a  fight  between  Kennedy  Poteet  and 


396  VISITING   THE   SIN 

a  stranger.  That  fight  ended  fatally  for  the  stranger. 
Since  then  men  have  said  much  about  my  uncle  that 
cannot  be  proved.  The  memory  of  the  violence  he  had 
seen,  and  the  words  of  men  around  him,  preyed  upon 
the  mind  of  my  cousin.  Miss  Mozingo,  he  took  on 
his  own  shoulders  the  burden  you  so  earnestly  desired 
to  put  there.  From  a  child  he  bore  his  father's  sins. 
He  deemed  himself  accursed  for  the  old  man's  sake." 

He  spoke  slowly  and  reflectively,  his  eyes  fixed  on 
the  girl's  face. 

"  If  you  had  known  as  I  knew  the  depth  of  sadness  and 
suffering  in  that  heart,"  he  continued,  "you  would  never 
have  added  to  his  sorrow.  You  once  accused  Ab  of 
one  of  these  possible  sins.  He  did  not  deny  hit.  He 
never  would.  There  was  no  curse  that  he  did  not  think 
he  merited  for  being  the  son  of  the  old  man  whom  he 
loved  even  while  he  trembled  over  his  evil  deeds." 

The  blue  eyes  were  very  sad.  Their  look,  and  the 
words  with  which  that  look  was  accompanied,  brought  a 
mist  to  the  dark  ones  opposite. 

"  I  am  sorry.  I  was  unjust,  but  I  did  not  know  it," 
said  Naomi.  "  I  should  like  to  tell  him  myself." 

Marshall  was  still  looking  into  her  face. 

"Miss  Mozingo,"  he  said  gently,  "there  are  times 
when  our  knowledge  comes  too  late." 

Then,  as  her  eyes  grew  startled  beneath  his  gaze,  he 
added  :  "  Will  you  come  in  ?  I  cannot  promise  you  that 
you  will  ever  explain  to  Ab." 

She  followed  him  wonderingly.  At  the  door  he  stood 
aside. 

"  Will  you  go  in  —  to  the  inner  room  ?  "  he  said. 

She  stepped  across  the  bare  room  where  she  had 
once  waited  so  long  for  Abner,  and  came  to  the  inner 
door.  There  she  stopped,  with  a  quick  contraction  of 
the  heart. 

Upon  the  bed  lay  the  calm  face  of  the  man  she  had 


VISITING   THE    SIN  397 

come  to  see.      No,  she  would  never  explain  to  Abner 
Poteet. 

The  face  that  she  turned  towards  Marshall  was  white 
as  the  one  upon  the  bed.  She  did  not  speak,  but  only 
lifted  her  eyes  questioningly  to  his. 

"He  was  expecting  hit,"  said  Marshall  gently.  " Two 
months  ago  he  had  a  dream,  a  foreshadowing  of  this 
day.  Miss  Mozingo,  his  death  was  the  bearing  of  the 
last  of  the  sins  of  his  father.  He  believed  that  hit 
would  come  as  the  final  punishment  of  those  sins.  He 
believed  hit  would  come  last  night." 

.  "  Was  he  ill  ? "  asked  the  girl,  in  a  low,  awe-struck 
voice, 

"He  was  in  perfect  health,  so  fur  as  we  knew," 
replied  Marshall.  "But  he  waited  for  death  —  as  the 
last  stroke  in  the  bearing  of  his  father's  sins.  Hit  came 
on  the  very  night  when  he  expected  hit." 

"  And  if  he  had  known,  it  might  have  been  different," 
said  Naomi. 

"  I  cannot  tell,"  replied  Marshall.  "  He  died  for  his 
father's  sins." 

She  stood  looking  at  that  still,  calm  face.  It  showed 
more  happiness  than  had  been  seen  upon  it  for  months. 
A  long,  low  sigh  escaped  her  lips.  She  turned  to 
Marshall. 

"It  is  too  late  to  undo  the  injury  to  him,"  she  said. 
"But  I  injured  you  too.  I  acknowledge  it.  I  was 
mistaken  —  and  altogether  in  the  wrong." 

He  looked  at  her  for  a  moment.  Then  he  held  out 
his  hand. 

"  Hit  mattered  less  to  me  than  to  him,"  he  said  ;  "but 
hit  did  matter." 

Was  the  slight  stress  on  that  "did"  intentional? 
Was  he  telling  her  that  though  it  mattered  much  then 
it  mattered  little  to-day  ? 

She  turned  away. 


398  VISITING   THE   SIN 

"  I  am  very  sorry  —  for  your  sorrow,  and  for  my  part 
in  it,"  she  said. 

She  went  out  of  the  door  and  along  the  valley  road, 
not  knowing  which  way  she  walked.  She  had  said  that 
the  time  should  come  when  the  son  of  Kennedy  Poteet 
would  be  glad  to  leave  the  valley  of  Big  Creek.  He 
had  left  it,  and  the  calm  smile  upon  his  face  told  her 
that  he  left  it  gladly. 


VISITING   THE    SIN  399 


CHAPTER    XXVII 

"TT   yOWDY!" 

I — I  Naomi  looked  up  unseeingly.  It  was  nearly 
A  JL  half  a  minute  before  she  realised  that  she  was 
staring  into  the  face  of  Lem  Sutton. 

"You  down  here?"  she  said,  bringing  tongue  and 
brain  again  under  a  measure  of  control. 

The  boy  nodded. 

"  We-uns  hev  got  all  the  corn  laid  down,"  he  explained. 
"  We  hain't  so  powerful  hard  druv  naow.  Goin'  to  start 
up  for  the  Gap  ? " 

It  was  proof  of  extraordinary  preoccupation  that  the 
significance  of  the  question  escaped  Naomi's  notice. 

"  No,  I'm  going  to  see  Dal,"  she  said.  "  Is  he  at  the 
farm  ?  " 

"  Lor,  no  ! "  responded  the  boy.  "He  hain't  thar. 
He's  gone  to  Hickory  Creek." 

Now  the  way  to  Hickory  Creek  lay  through  the  Gap. 

"  Is  he  coming  back  to-night  ? "  asked  Naomi. 

"  I  reckon,"  replied  Lem.  "  I  hain't  plumb  sure. 
Dai's  got  powerful  important  business  thar,"  he  added, 
after  a  momentary  silence.  "He  hain't  calc'latin'  to 
stop  a  right  smart  longer  at  the  farm.  We-all  are 
aimin'  to  git  the  control  of  a  mill." 

He  glanced  casually  at  Naomi  as  he  spoke,  and  car- 
ried his  head  no  more  proudly  than  was  warrantable  for 
a  boy  who  had  a  right  to  say  "  we-all "  in  reference  to 
Dalbert  and  himself. 

Naomi  did  not  smile,  even  to  herself.  She  failed  to 
appreciate  the  situation,  except  in  so  far  as  it  pointed 
to  a  change  of  plan  on  the  part  of  her  brother. 


400  VISITING   THE    SIN 

"  When  he  gets  home,  tell  him  to  come  and  see  me. 
There  is  something  I  want  to  talk  to  him  about  di- 
rectly," she  said. 

She  turned  and  walked  back,  and  scarcely  noticed 
that  Lem  passed  her  briskly,  his  bare  feet  kicking  up 
the  dust  along  the  dry  road.  Presently  she  went  in 
among  the  trees,  and  sat  down  to  rest.  A  feeling  of 
weariness  had  overtaken  her.  She  could  not  see  Dal 
to-day,  and  no  decision  could  be  arrived  at  without  him. 
The  necessity  for  action  was  over  for  the  time  being, 
and  with  it  the  stimulus  it  had  afforded.  Just  at  the 
moment  nothing  but  the  failure  remained, —  the  failure 
of  life  at  Big  Creek.  She  sat  thinking  of  it,  or  rather 
letting  the  consciousness  of  it  come  and  go  as  it  would, 
without  volition  on  her  part. 

The  two  faces  she  had  just  seen  blended  in  that  ret- 
rospect, the  calm,  still  countenance  of  Abner  Poteet, 
and  the  other,  from  which  the  blue  eyes  had  looked 
sadly.  She  had  never  really  seen  Abner  until  she  saw 
him  lying  dead  that  morning.  The  face  of  the  man  she 
had  persecuted  had  worn  for  her  a  look  she  failed  to 
find  to-day.  She  wondered  now  that  its  patient,  sor- 
rowful nobility  had  not  convinced  her.  But  she  had  not 
seen  that  nobility  before,  though  it  was  stamped  on 
every  feature.  She  began  to  understand  dimly  that 
perfect  sight  requires  an  open  heart  as  well  as  open 
eyes. 

It  was  not  until  she  heard  footsteps  approaching  that 
she  rose  and  went  on  towards  the  valley  road.  She 
had  turned  into  a  cross  path  that  led  in  the  direction  of 
her  brother's  farm.  Now  she  began  to  walk  quickly. 
Across  the  vision  had  come  the  image  of  her  father. 
A  longing  to  pierce  the  silence  that  surrounded  him 
possessed  her.  Had  he  really  betrayed  any  knowledge 
of  her  presence,  or  did  the  manifestation  of  interest 
perceived  by  China  Partins  exist  solely  in  her  imagina- 


VISITING   THE   SIN  401 

tion  ?  What  was  to  be  the  outcome  of  it  all  ?  If  the 
old  woman  could  be  persuaded  to  make  any  change, 
would  it  be  for  her  father's  good  ?  Naomi  did  not  for 
a  moment  question  the  right  of  China  Partins  to  have 
a  voice  in  the  decision.  Fifteen  years  of  devoted  ser- 
vice constituted  a  claim  not  to  be  lightly  set  aside. 
She  must  confer  with  her  brother,  and  seek  to  evolve 
some  plan  for  the  future ;  but,  after  all,  the  real  deci- 
sion rested  with  China  Partins. 

Naomi  was  going  to  see  the  old  woman  now.  She 
could  not  stay  away.  Yearning  love  for  her  father 
drew  her  towards  the  Gap.  She  wanted  to  be  near 
him,  to  hear  more  about  him.  She  knew  that  the  un- 
speaking  gaze  of  those  dark  eyes  would  send  the  blood 
chilled  to  her  heart,  and  convince  her  anew  of  the  hope- 
lessness of  her  longing  for  one  sign  of  recognition ;  but 
her  feet  carried  her  none  the  less  swiftly  to  the  cabin. 
She  did  not  stop  on  the  high  rock  to  look  down  upon 
the  dwelling  as  she  had  done  yesterday.  She  de- 
scended the  steep  path  at  a  run. 

"  Thar  hain't  nary  bit  o*  use  none  on  ye  comin'  here 
to-day." 

China  Partins  stood  in  the  doorway,  defiant  wrath 
stamped  on  every  feature.  The  shutter  had  been  re- 
placed on  its  hinge,  and  was  flung  open  wide,  giving  the 
summer  breeze  free  access  to  the  house.  The  attitude 
of  the  old  woman  suggested  the  thought  that  the  breeze 
was  the  only  thing  that  was  free  to  enter  there. 

"There's  nobody  else  coming,"  replied  Naomi.  "I 
have  not  seen  my  brother.  He  is  away." 

"  He  warn't  away  this  mornin',"  retorted  the  custo- 
dian of  the  door  wrathfully. 

Naomi  looked  up. 

"  Has  he  been  here  ?  "  she  asked  wonderingly, 

An  expressive  sniff  was  the  sole  response. 

"  Does  he  know  ?     Did  you  tell  him  ? " 


402  VISITING   THE    SIN 

Naomi's  tone  was  eager. 

"Tell  him  ?  No,  I  didn't."  The  words  broke  angrily 
from  the  old  lips.  "  I  didn't  tell  him  nothin'.  I  hain't 
goin'  to  tell  none  on  ye  nothin'.  You  hain't  no  right 
here.  This  house  hain't  yourn  —  and  he  hain't  yourn. 
He's  mine." 

"  I'm  not  disputing  your  claim.  I  have  no  intention 
of  disputing  it,"  said  Naomi  quietly.  "  Your  loving  care 
of  my  father  gives  you  the  first  right  to  a  voice  in  the 
decision  that  must  be  arrived  at.  But  you  cannot  deny 
that  his  children  also  have  rights." 

"  Rights  ?  Who  said  they  hadn't  ? "  retorted  the  old 
woman.  "  I  hain't  wantin'  to  deprive  ye  of  yer  rights. 
Hain't  I  kep'  the  money  for  ye  all  these  years  ?  That's 
your  right.  I  hain't  defrauding  ye  of  hit.  He  asked 
me  to  keep  hit  for  ye.  I've  kep'  hit.  You  can  come  in 
and  git  hit." 

Naomi  looked  at  her  steadily. 

"The  money  he  sold  his  mules  for  ? "  she  asked. 

"  Yes,  hit's  yourn.  7  hain't  wantin'  to  cheat  ye  aout 
o'  none  o'  yer  rights,"  was  the  indignant  answer. 

"  And  you  have  not  used  it  all  these  years  ? "  ques- 
tioned the  girl. 

"  Used  hit  ? "  retorted  the  old  woman  fiercely.  "  Du 
you  think  I  was  atter  his  money  ?  " 

"No  —  we  are  neither  of  us  after  it,"  said  Naomi 
quietly.  "We  are  both  after  something  of  more  im- 
portance. But  you  had  a  right  to  use  it  —  for  him. 
You  have  fed  and  cared  for  him  all  these  years." 

"  Fed  him  !  "  responded  China  Part  ins  in  an  angry, 
scornful  voice.  "  Would  you  have  me  count  what  went 
into  his  mouth  ?  Gal,  you  hain't  knowin'  nothin'." 

"Yes,  I  am,"  replied  Naomi.  "  I  know  that  your  only 
thought  was  for  him.  I  know  it  was  pity  and  love  that 
caused  you  to  do  it  all.  But  that  did  not  make  it 
necessary  to  injure  yourself." 


VISITING   THE   SIN  403 

"Thar  hain't  a  cent  of  hit  touched,  and  thar  hain't 
like  to  be,"  said  the  woman  fiercely.  "That's  yourn. 
But  he  hain't  yourn.  You  hain't  got  no  shadder  of  a 
claim  by  the  side  o'  mine.  Gal,  thar  hain't  no  power 
nowhars  that  can  make  me  give  him  up." 

"  Did  my  brother  ask  it  ? "  demanded  Naomi  gently. 

The  fierce  eyes  flamed. 

"He  didn't  ask  nothin'.  He  tuk  hit  for  granted  he'd 
a  right  to  du  jist  what  he  said,"  she  snapped. 

"  But  not  after  you  told  him  ?  Not  when  he  knew  ? " 
persisted  Naomi. 

"  I  didn't  tell  him  nary  thing  but  to  git  aout  o'  my 
house.  And  he  done  hit,"  said  the  old  woman  signifi- 
cantly. 

"  When  did  he  come  ? " 

"This  morninV 

"  How  did  he  find  aout  ?  I  have  not  seen  him,"  ex- 
claimed Naomi. 

The  contemptuous  grunt  that  served  as  reply  might 
be  interpreted  according  to  the  discretion  of  the  listener. 
China  Partins  still  stood  blocking  the  doorway. 

"  Did  he  see  him  ? "  asked  Naomi. 

"Yes." 

The  word  passed  the  old  lips  with  a  savage  snap. 

"  Do  you  think  that  my  father  knew  him  ?  You  said 
that  he  knew  me." 

The  question  went  out  upon  the  summer  air.  If  it 
reached  the  ears  of  China  Partins,  it  elicited  no  response 
from  her.  Her  tall,  bent  form  filled  the  doorway  as  per- 
sistently as  at  first.  Naomi  looked  at  her  with  some 
perplexity. 

"  You  told  me  I  might  come  and  go,"  she  said.  "  If 
he  is  yours,  he  is  mine  too." 

The  sharp  eyes  under  the  shaggy  white  eyebrows 
looked  down  at  her.  China  Partins  neither  stirred  nor 
spoke. 


404  VISITING   THE    SIN 

"  He  belongs  to  us  both,"  continued  the  young,  clear 
voice.  "  You  can  no  more  deny  me  my  right  than  I  can 
deny  yours." 

The  old  eyes  were  still  fixed  on  her  face.  They  did 
not  waver  in  their  steady  gaze,  nor  did  the  expression  of 
the  countenance  change.  But  after  a  silence,  in  which 
Naomi's  eyes  met  those  others  unflinchingly,  China 
Partins  suddenly  moved  aside.  Naomi  went  into  the 
cabin. 

The  girl  did  not  repeat  the  question  she  had  asked  of 
the  old  woman.  .  One  glance  at  her  father's  face  an- 
swered it  for  her.  No,  he  had  not  recognised  Dalbert. 
He  would  not  recognise  her.  She  knew  now  that  there 
had  been  intelligence  in  the  eyes  that  looked  into  hers 
yesterday, —  knew  it  by  the  absence  of  that  intelligence 
to-day.  There  was  no  more  need  to  ask  "Does  he 
know  ? "  His  gaze  was  the  stare  of  vacancy. 

Her  eyes,  misty  with  tears,  turned  to  the  seamed  face 
of  the  old  woman. 

"  Is  it  often  so  ? "  she  asked. 

China  Partins  looked  from  the  girl  to  the  form  of  the 
man  towards  whom  for  fifteen  years  the  strength  of  brain 
and  heart  had  gone  out  in  a  ceaseless  effort  to  force 
from  injured  nature  a  measure  of  concession,  a  partial 
reversal  of  her  normal  course ;  and  into  the  time-hardened 
countenance  came  a  look  of  sorrow. 

"  I  told  you  you  could  come  and  go,"  she  said  slowly. 
"That  was  yesterday.  I  hain't  sayin'  hit  to-day.  Hit 
hain't  all  right  with  him.  You  done  worked  mischief." 

Naomi  looked  at  her  with  startled  eyes. 

"Is  he  ill?"  she  asked.  "Is  it  something  unusual, 
his  lying  thus  ? " 

"  His  not  takin'  notice  ? "  responded  China  Partins. 
"  No,  hit  hain't.  Hit  comes  atter  every  noticin'  time. 
But  he  hain't  well.  He's  been  excited.  Thar  shain't 
nothin'  from  outside  touch  him  no  more.  You  hain't 


VISITING   THE   SIN  405 

knowin'.  How  should  you  ?  You  cain't  know  ;  you're 
fools,  both  on  ye.  But  I  hain't  no  fool,  and  I've  done 
stood  betwixt  him  and  harm  this  fifteen  year.  Hit  hain't 
a  slip  of  a  gal  and  boy  that's  goin'  to  undo  my  work." 

"  We  don't  want  to  undo  it,"  said  Naomi.  "  Do  you 
think  we  would  hurt  hint  ?  " 

The  old  woman  sniffed  contemptuously. 

"  A  smart  sight  you  know  whether  you're  hurtin'  him 
or  not,"  she  said. 

Then  there  was  silence.  Naomi  was  looking  down  at 
her  father.  Was  it  fancy,  or  was  there  a  pallor  about 
the  flesh  that  had  been  absent  yesterday  ?  The  right 
hand,  the  one  that  was  not  disabled,  lay  outside  upon  the 
bed-clothes.  She  touched  it  softly.  As  she  did  so,  a 
low  cry  rose  to  her  lips.  She  had  been  looking  at  that 
hand  for  a  long  time.  She  had  only  now  discovered  a 
ring  upon  the  little  finger. 

A  short,  contemptuous  laugh  came  as  a  response  to 
the  cry.  China  Partins  did  not  ask  what  had  forced 
that  exclamation  from  the  girl.  She  knew  —  even  before 
it  had  fairly  passed  her  lips. 

"  Findin'  you're  a  bigger  fool  than  you  knowed,  hain't 
ye  ?  "  she  said. 

"  How  did  it  come  there  ? "  gasped  Naomi,  stooping  to 
look  more  closely  at  the  thin  gold  circlet  and  its  one 
common  little  stone. 

"  Hit  never  was  nowhars  else,  exceptin'  on  his  other 
hand,"  replied  the  old  woman.  "He  done  wanted  hit 
on  the  hand  he  could  move." 

"But  I  found  it  —  his  ring  —  in  the  bone  cave,"  said 
Naomi,  her  voice  sharp  with  the  note  of  perplexity. 

China  Partins  laughed  a  low,  hoarse  laugh. 

"  You  done  seed  what  your  eyes  was  luekin'  for,"  she 
said  scornfully.  "  Lor !  gal,  the  ring  you  found  hadn't 
sich  a  big  stone  as  hisn  by  a  smart  sight.  Hit  was  the 
same  colour,  and  the  settin'  was  the  same,  but  the  ring 
warn't  worth  as  much  as  hisn." 


406  VISITING  THE   SIN 

The  surprise  in  Naomi's  eyes  approached  to  awe. 
Was  there  no  circumstance  of  her  life  in  Big  Creek  that 
this  woman  was  not  familiar  with  ? 

"How  did  you  know  what  it  looked  like, —  the  ring  I 
found?"  she  asked. 

"  Lor !  hit  hain't  an  uncommon  ring,  or  useter  wasn't 
when  I  was  young,"  said  China  Partins.  "Thar  was 
more  'n  one  had  its  match.  Sixty  year  ago  come  June  I 
bought  me  that  ring." 

"Then  it  was  yours?"  ejaculated  Naomi. 

"I  reckon,"  came  the  emphatic  reply.  "I  hain't 
knowin'  whose  hit's  like  to  be  if  hit  hain't  mine.  Least- 
ways hit  was  lost  tol'rable  nigh  to  whar  yourn  was 
found." 

"  In  the  bone  cave  ? "  asked  Naomi  in  astonishment. 

"  Thar  warn't  no  call  for  hit  to  be  inside.  The  edge 
o'  the  cave  was  nigh  enough,"  said  China  Partins  shortly. 

"  And  you  lost  it  there  ? " 

"I  reckon.  Twenty-five  year  ago  this  next  fust  o' 
March  was  the  day  I  done  went  aout  with  that  ring  on 
my  finger  and  come  back  without  hit.  I  calc'late  thar 
wouldn't  'a  been  no  sich  convincin'  evidence  of  Kennedy 
Poteet's  guilt  for  you  to  unearth  if  I  hadn't  run  a  power- 
ful big  splinter  inter  my  hand  out  thar  in  the  woods  grub- 
bin'  for  roots.  Gal,  hit  bled.  Hit  bled  plumb  bad.  I  had 
to  use  mighty  strong  Bible  words  to  stop  the  flow  o' 
blood.  Thar  wouldn't  no  ordinary  means  du  hit.  Hit 
stopped  then  —  plumb.  But  I  went  home  and  done  for- 
got my  basket  o'  roots.  And  hit  warn't  till  night  that 
I  missed  the  ring.  Thar  come  a  thunder  shower  that 
night,  and  a  right  smart  o'  rain." 

"  And  it  washed  the  ring  into  the  cave  ? "  said  Naomi. 

"Hit  warn't  outside  atter  that  rain,"  replied  China 
Partins  significantly.  "  I  done  hunted  over  every  inch 
o'  the  ground.  Hit  never  seed  daylight  no  more  till 
you  rubbed  the  mud  offn  hit  and  knowed  hit  sure  for 
yourn." 


VISITING   THE    SIN  407 

"Why  didn't  you  tell  me?"  questioned  Naomi  re- 
proachfully. "  It  would  have  prevented  much  misunder- 
standing." 

The  old  lips  broadened  into  a  contemptuous  smile. 

"  Lor  !  I  warn't  in  no  hurry  for  ye  to  know,"  she  said. 
"  Hit  warn't  makin'  no  trouble  for  me-e.  Thar's  a  lot  o' 
guede  in  a  fool's  folly  if  you  know  how  to  git  hit  aout." 

She  shut  her  lips,  and  looked  with  those  keen  old  eyes 
into  the  girl's  face.  It  was  not  as  well  under  control  as 
usual.  It  had  lost  its  calm  confidence.  Bit  by  bit  the 
standing  ground  of  Naomi's  certainty  had  been  swept 
away.  There  remained  now  not  even  the  semblance  of 
excuse  for  her  determined  attack  upon  Kennedy  Poteet. 
"Knowed  hit  so  sure  for  her  own!"  Was  there  any- 
thing she  had  not  known  for  sure  ?  And  was  there  a 
single  case  in  which  her  judgment  had  not  been  at  fault  ? 

She  stood  looking  at  the  ring  upon  her  father's  hand. 

"  I  reckon  thar  hain't  no  guede  waitin'.  You  might 
as  well  take  hit  to-day  as  ary  other  time." 

The  voice  of  China  Partins  broke  the  silence.  Just 
how  long  it  had  lasted  perhaps  neither  of  the  two  could 
have  told  very  positively. 

"  Take  what  ? " 

The  girl's  lips  moved  stiffly. 

"  The  money.  /  hain't  wantin'  to  defraud  ye  of  none 
of  yer  rights." 

"  My  rights  ! " 

The  laugh  that  accompanied  the  words  was  a  mirth- 
less one.  Ever  since  she  came  to  Big  Creek  Naomi 
had  been  pushing  her  claims  to  the  front.  She  never 
felt  less  like  urging  them  than  to-day. 

China  Partins  walked  across  to  the  broad  hearth. 
With  no  trace  of  excitement  she  stooped  over  the  dust- 
strewn  bricks,  and  removed  a  couple  from  their  place. 
Then,  while  she  knelt  before  the  hole,  the  claw-shaped 
nails  went  to  scraping. 


408  VISITING   THE    SIN 

It  was  strange  how  little  interest  either  of  the  two 
felt  at  that  moment  in  the  treasure  which  had  been 
hidden  under  that  hearth  for  years.  To  the  woman 
who  had  concealed  it,  though  she  was  no  despiser  of 
money  as  a  rule,  it  was  of  less  moment  than  the  ashes 
that  had  sifted  down  upon  its  resting-place  compared 
with  the  other  treasure  at  issue.  Naomi's  thoughts 
were  of  the  past, —  the  misguided,  misinterpreted  past 
that  had  shaped  the  present.  She  watched  the  old 
woman  remove  the  gathered  dust  of  years,  and  take 
out  a  slab  of  wood.  If  she  had  peered  into  the  cayity 
thus  laid  bare,  she  would  have  seen  nothing  to  draw  her 
thoughts  from  that  past.  The  long,  muscular  arm  had 
to  reach  far  under  until  it  was  buried  to  the  elbow  be- 
fore it  brought  out  a  tin  can,  carefully  tied  down.  But 
when  the  can  was  opened  Naomi  forgot  the  immediate 
past  in  her  memories  of  the  more  remote.  The  old 
leather  belt,  with  pouch  attached,  had  many  a  time 
rested  in  her  small  hands  in  the  days  when  the  bag  was 
her  father's  receptacle  for  his  savings.  The  sight  of  it 
brought  the  tears  to  her  eyes.  China  Partins  brushed 
the  dust  from  its  surface,  and  held  it  out  towards  her. 

"Thar,  that's  yourn ;  and  thar  hain't  a  cent  missin'," 
she  said. 

Naomi  took  the  leather  bag,  and  turned  it  over  with 
ringers  that  trembled. 

"  Count  hit,"  said  the  old  woman  peremptorily.  "  I 
hain't  aimin'  to  have  no  misunderstandin'  abaout  tha-at. 
Hit's  all  thar,  jist  as  I  got  hit  offn  him  at  the  fust." 

Naomi  emptied  the  pouch,  turning  the  contents  on  to 
the  table. 

"  Hit  hain't  Confederate  money,"  said  the  old  woman. 
"  He  done  sold  his  mules  to  a  Northerner." 

A  thrill  went  through  the  girl's  fingers  as  they 
separated  the  money.  The  touch  of  it  carried  her  back 
to  the  transaction  to  which  it  belonged.  She  remem- 


VISITING   THE   SIN  409 

bered  the  big  drove  of  mules  it  represented,  many  of 
them  raised  on  her  father's  farm,  the  rest  bought  from 
neighbours.  She  remembered  her  father's  anxiety  lest 
the  venture  should  prove  a  failure,  his  plans  for  the  dis- 
posal of  the  gains  if  it  were  a  success. 

"  Five  thousand  dollars,  hain't  thar  ? " 

The  voice  of  China  Partins  broke  in  on  her  thoughts. 

"Exactly  five  thousand." 

"That's  hit.  Thar  warn't  neither  more  nor  less  in 
thar.  That's  what  he  wanted  me  to  keep  for  you. 
I've  kep'  hit.  Thar  is  more,  though." 

Advancing  to  the  table,  she  shook  the  tin  can  over  it. 
A  packet  wrapped  in  a  piece  of  old  newspaper  fell  out 
with  a  thud. 

"That's  the  loose  money  he  had  in  his  pockets. 
I  reckon  he  was  a-savin'  hit  to  git  home  with." 

She  stood  in  grim  silence  while  the  time-worn  paper 
was  unwrapped,  disclosing  five  dollars  and  a  few  odd 
coins.  Then  she  spoke. 

"  You  cain't  say  I'm  atter  robbin'  ye  of  yer  rights !  " 

Naomi  glanced  from  the  money  to  the  bed.  She 
made  no  answer  in  words.  When  she  looked  back  into 
the  old  face  it  had  grown  harder. 

"You  can  take  that  money,  and  you  can  go,"  said 
China  Partins.  "  And  you  needn't  to  come  back.  Till 
the  mischief  you've  done  managed  to  dti  is  undone,  thar 
shain't  a  soul  on  this  earth  enter  my  door.  You  can 
tell  that  brother  of  yourn  so.  I  told  you  you  could 
come.  You  can  —  when  I  call  for  ye.  But,  gal, 
if  you  try,  or  he  tries,  to  git  the  better  o'  China  Partins, 
you'll  larn  she  hain't  lived  a  hundred  years  for  note." 

"  You  won't  let  me  come  to  see  him  ?  "  asked  Naomi 
quickly,  a  frown  gathering  upon  the  face  that  memo- 
ries of  the  past  had  softened. 

"No,  I  wont"  said  the  woman  savagely.  "I  hain't 
goin'  to  run  the  risk  of  lettin'  harm  come  nigh  him,  if  I 


4io  VISITING   THE    SIN 

have  to  fight  for  him  agin  as  I  fit  at  the  fust.  Gal, 
don't  you  presume.  Thar  was  danger  when  you  come 
pokin'  round  here,  breakin'  off  my  shutter  and  pushin' 
yourself  whar  you  hadn't  a  mite  o'  right  to  come.  But 
that  was  powerful  safe  by  the  side  of  the  danger  o' 
duin'  aught  that  could  bring  harm  to  hi-im.  You  might 
'a  lit  on  death  then,  thar  won't  be  no  '  might '  abaout 
hit  if  hit  comes  to  tha-at. " 

Naomi  looked  into  those  fierce,  determined  eyes,  and 
believed  that  China  Partins  spoke  truly.  There  would 
be  no  doubt  of  the  result  if  any  act  of  man  or  woman 
should  work  evil  to  that  still  figure  upon  the  bed. 

"  To  hurt  him  would  be  my  loss  as  much  as  yours," 
she  said.  "  You  forget  that  I  love  him  too." 

"Love!"  snorted  the  old  woman  contemptuously. 
"What  do  you  know  abaout  tha-at?  If  thar  is  any 
love,  you  can  show  hit  by  stayin'  away.  I've  got  to 
have  him  to  myself.  I've  done  got  to  fight  the  sick 
aout  of  him.  I  hain't  wantin*  ye  here,  and  you  hain't 
comin'." 

She  advanced  suddenly,  and  put  both  strong,  muscu- 
lar hands  on  the  girl's  shoulders.  She  spoke  no  word, 
but  the  old  eyes  looked  into  the  young  ones,  which 
were  held  fascinated.  Naomi  had  thought  she  had 
read  those  eyes  before,  at  least  in  part.  Now  she  knew 
that  they  were  beyond  her  powers  of  deciphering. 

"  Now  go !  " 

The  hands  were  removed  suddenly  from  her  shoul- 
ders. Their  hasty  withdrawal  caused  her  to  stagger. 

"If  I  go,  it  is  because  I  am  afraid  of  injuring  him" 
she  said  quietly.  "  I  would  do  anything,  even  to  stay- 
ing away  from  him,  if  it  were  for  his  good.  But  why 
should  my  coming  harm  him  ?  I  will  leave  you  quite 
alone  till  after  to-morrow.  Then  you  must  let  me 
come.  If  I  find  that  it  hurts  him,  I  will  keep  out  of 
his  sight." 


VISITING   THE    SIN  411 

They  looked  at  each  other. 

"  You  won't  come  in  here  no  more  till  thar's  a 
change,"  said  China  Partins  slowly.  "And  when  that 
comes,  I'll  tell  ye.  Now  take  that  thar  money  and  go." 

"  Do  you  think  it  is  worth  any  more  to  me  than  to 
you  ? "  asked  the  girl. 

"  I  hain't  thinkin'  nothin'  abaout  hit,"  was  the  reply. 
"  Hit's  yourn.  I  hain't  wantin'  hit.  I'm  wantin'  the 
chance  to  du  the  best  for  hi-im." 

Something  in  her  tone  won  the  day.  Was  it  a  touch 
of  wistfulness,  a  faint  breath  of  entreaty  ? 

"  I  will  go,"  said  Naomi,  and  passed  out  of  the  door 
without  approaching  her  father. 

Even  China  Partins  did  not  see  two  bright  eyes  that 
followed  the  girl's  movements  from  the  moment  she 
appeared  in  the  doorway  till  she  stood  upon  the  rock 
above.  But  China  Partins  was  preoccupied,  and  her 
thoughts  were  not  of  so  insignificant  a  subject  as  a  half- 
grown  lad.  Moreover,  Lem  was  good  at  hiding. 

"  I  hain't  set  him  on  the  track  none  too  soon,"  mut- 
tered the  boy.  "Thar  is  somethin'  betwixt  'em.  I 
wonder  what  the  sick  feller  with  her  eyes  has  got  to  du 
with  hit.  Whew  !  " 

That  shrill  whistle  betrayed  two  things, —  the  pres- 
ence of  Lem  Sutton  and  the  advent  of  a  new  idea. 
Lem  dropped  behind  the  rock  that  had  hidden  him. 

"  What  are  you  duin'  here  ?  " 

Claw-like  fingers  bent  themselves  round  the  boy's 
ear,  and  Lem  had  the  choice  of  freedom,  with  the  loss 
of  a  member  that  was  in  his  case  rather  more  than  or- 
dinarily useful,  or  present  captivity  to  the  fierce  old 
woman  whose  eyes  blazed  down  at  him. 

"  Lor !  I  was  only  restin'  a  bit,"  he  said.  "  My ! 
hain't  your  nails  sharp  ?  Better  be  atter  cuttin'  'em." 

The  answer  was  a  tightening  of  those  nails  about  his 
ear,  every  separate  one  digging  into  the  flesh  with  a 


4i2  VISITING   THE   SIN 

savage  certainty  that  Lem  found  more  convincing  than 
words.  And  when  there  had  been  time  for  the  elo- 
quence of  the  nails  to  take  effect,  the  old  lips  opened, 
and  words  blood-curdling  in  their  obscurity  were  hissed 
into  the  ear  that  was  at  leisure  to  receive  them.  What 
those  words  foretold,  whether  they  were  threat  of  future 
evil  or  promise  of  present  retribution,  Lem  did  not  know. 
He  did  know  that  the  old  eyes  drew  his  and  held  them, 
and  that  he  was  impelled  to  look  into  the  flame  of  their 
fierce  light. 

The  fingers  relaxed  before  the  eyes  set  him  free. 
He  was  rubbing  his  ear  and  feeling  of  the  dents  as  the 
blood  came  back  to  it,  while  yet  he  stood  captive,  held 
by  those  glaring  old  eyes  so  near  his  own. 

"  Thar's  all  Big  Creek  for  you-u  to  kick  yer  heels  in," 
said  the  old  woman,  after  the  sound  of  the  charm  had 
died  away.  "  And  thar  hain't  nary  place  no  danger  but 
thisn.  Lor !  boy,  hain't  you  heared  China  Partins  was  a 
wi-itch  ?  Thar  don't  nobody  come  near  he-er  without 
her  knowin'.  And  thar  don't  nobody  contrairy  her  for 
note.  You  better  lueke  aout  plumb  sharp.  Thar's  a 
hundred  ways  I  can  fix  you-u.  Lor !  thar's  no  tellin' 
what  will  come  to  ye  if  you  don't  keep  away  from 
here." 

She  removed  her  eyes  from  his  face.  Lem  stood  for 
a  moment  dazed.  Then  he  backed  out  of  the  reach  of 
that  long  arm. 

"  You  hain't  knowin'  plumb  everything,  if  you  are  a 
witch,"  he  said,  and  darted  away. 

"  If  she's  so  powerful  knowin',  why  didn't  she  see  me 
peek  in  t'other  time  ? "  demanded  Lem,  as  he  rubbed 
the  unfortunate  ear  and  made  a  quick  and  somewhat 
perilous  descent  into  the  Gap  by  a  route  less  circuitous 
than  that  by  which  Naomi  was  returning  to  the  village. 
"  Lor  me !  I'm  powerful  glad  I  got  on  the  scent.  Hit's 
her  dad,  sure,  the  feller  old  Ken  killed  and  stuck  in  the 
cave.  Lor !  hit  was  time  I  come  to  Big  Creek." 


VISITING   THE    SIN  413 

And  Lem  struck  the  road  like  an  India  rubber  ball, 
and  almost  ran  over  Will  Hollingsworth. 

"  Been  up  above  with  your  friend  Naomi,  eh  ?  "  asked 
Will,  in  an  insinuating  tone. 

"  Naomi  Mozingo  ? "  questioned  the  boy  stonily. 
"  Did  she  come  this  away  ?  I  seed  her  goin'  to  the 
Ridges  atter  Dal  a  right  smart  ago.  I'm  huntin' 
squirrels.  Ever  try  to  knock  'em  down  with  a  stone  ? 
Lor !  you  can  du  hit !  " 

He  kicked  a  pair  of  bare  heels  in  the  dust,  and  left 
Will  to  his  meditations,  which  lasted  till  the  figure  of  a 
girl  came  in  sight  at  the  farthest  point  visible  from 
where  he  stood.  Then  Will  Hollingsworth  also  turned 
homeward,  and  left  the  pass  to  the  girl. 


414  VISITING  THE   SIN 


CHAPTER   XXVIII 

IT  does  not  take  forty-eight  hours  to  alter  the  fate  of 
countries  or  mar  the  lives  of  individuals.     The  wheels 
of  life  move  slowly,  but  there  comes  a  specific  turn 
that,  while  it  carries  them  not  a  hair's  breadth  further 
than  any  previous  revolution,  alters  the  relative  positions 
of  the  good,  that  like  a  light  approached  shone  always 
ahead,  and  the  evil,  looming  up  vaguely  portentous  in 
the  darkness  beyond. 

Naomi  had  promised  to  remain  away  from  the  cottage 
upon  the  mountain  for  the  space  of  two  days.  She  saw 
no  actual  necessity  for  the  promise,  but  the  will  of 
China  Partins  was  strong.  Moreover  the  suggestion  of 
the  possibility  that  her  appearance  had  injured  her 
father  made  her  unwilling  to  run  any  risk.  She  stayed 
down  in  the  valley,  and  waited  for  the  coming  of  Dalbert. 
China  Partins  had  insisted  on  being  left  alone  with 
her  charge.  Her  eye,  trained  to  note  every  change  in 
his  condition,  saw  occasion  for  uneasiness.  It  suggested 
no  ground  for  positive  fear.  She  had  confidence  in  her 
skill  in  fighting  disease  and  injury.  She  had  literally 
stood  between  her  patient  and  death  all  these  years,  and 
she  was  rather  anxious  than  fearful  now.  There  had 
never  been  a  time  when  it  was  absolutely  safe  to  relax 
her  vigilance.  She  was  less  inclined  to  do  so  at  the 
present  moment  than  ever  before.  "A  gal  and  boy 
that  hadn't  enough  sense  to  keep  from  makin*  fools  of 
themselves  before  the  world  warn't  goin'  to  undo  her 
work.  If  they  didn't  know  what  was  for  the  guede  of 
everybody  concerned,  she  did.  China  Partins  warn't  no 
fool,  and  warn't  to  be  got  the  best  on  by  them  that 
was." 


VISITING  THE   SIN  415 

She  had  turned  out  the  disturbing  causes,  both  in  one 
day,  and  now  she  gave  herself  up  to  the  care  of  her 
patient.  In  the  coming  of  Naomi  she  had  met  with  a 
measure  of  defeat.  She  was  not  looking  for  more.  She 
had  long  ago  foreseen  danger  in  the  appearance  of  the 
children  of  Dalbert  Mozingo  in  the  valley  of  Big  Creek. 
When  her  eyes  first  rested  upon  the  girl's  face,  she  had 
had  a  vision  of  good  —  represented  to  her  by  the  pres- 
ence of  that  helpless  being  about  whom  every  fibre  of 
her  heart  had  twisted  and  knotted  itself  in  an  abandon- 
ment of  affection  that  grew  out  of  her  isolated  and  joy- 
less life  —  coming  within  a  measurable  distance  of  its 
end.  That  she  should  be  robbed  of  her  charge  was  the 
biggest  ill  that  life  held  for  her.  She  had  set  herself  to 
prevent  the  catastrophe.  "  Thar  was  means,"  and  China 
Partins  had  made  use  of  them.  Charm  and  incantation, 
and  the  cunning  perfected  by  a  century's  practice,  had 
been  brought  into  play  to  keep  the  girl  from  that  lonely 
hut  in  the  mountains.  And  now,  with  the  game  no 
longer  in  her  own  hands,  China  Partins  was  prepared 
for  yet  another  struggle. 

"  They  shain't  cheat  me  of  hi-im,"  she  said ;  and  the 
lips  set  themselves  like  rims  of  steel.  "  Thar  shain't  no- 
body rob  me  of  him,  nor  nobody  touch  him.  He's 
mine.  He  hain't  theirn.  They  hain't  no  right  to  him, 
and  they  hain't  goin'  to  have  him.  When  China  Partins 
is  robbed  of  the  one  thing  she  ever  sot  store  by  in  this 
world,  thar  '11  be  somebody  layin'  dead  araound  this 
away." 

The  lips  came  to  with  a  snap,  and  the  eyes  glittered. 
She  knew  what  she  was  talking  about.  It  would  be  no 
easy  thing  to  rob  her  of  her  treasure.  There  were  not 
many  men  who  would  have  cared  to  storm  the  house  of 
China  Partins.  She  was  known  as  an  unerring  shot, 
and  gun  and  pistol  were  never  far  out  of  reach  of  her 
hand  when  the  mistress  of  the  log  cabin  was  at  home. 


416  VISITING   THE    SIN 

A  short,  contemptuous  laugh  was  her  comment  on  the 
thought  that  possibly  Dalbert  Mozingo  might  seek  to 
enforce  his  claim  by  an  appeal  to  the  sheriff. 

"Thar  hain't  no  sheriff  fool  enough  to  try  hit,"  she 
muttered.  "The  gal  and  boy  have  got  to  listen  to 
reason." 

And  in  the  end  defeat  came  suddenly,  and  not  as  a 
result  of  a  refusal  of  the  "gal  and  boy"  to  listen  to 
reason.  The  wheels  of  life  had  reached  the  particular 
revolution  that  contained  the  dividing  moment  between 
the  cherished  joy,  which  became  of  the  past,  and  the  ill, 
that  out  of  menacing  obscurity  leapt  into  the  position  of 
present  reality. 

China  Partins  was  looking  for  difficulty  —  preparing 
for  conflict.  She  was  not  looking  for  that  which  came. 

The  symptoms  of  failure  on  the  part  of  her  patient  had 
increased  in  the  day  that  followed  Naomi's  second  visit 
to  the  cabin.  She  recognised  the  necessity  for  vigour 
in  her  fight  against  this  new  onslaught  of  evil.  There 
was  no  danger  that  threatened  her  charge  that  did  not 
find  her  on  the  alert.  She  was  fighting  this  particular 
form  of  danger  when  the  sun  went  down, —  fighting  it 
grimly  enough,  but  with  no  real  fear  of  the  result.  She 
was  fighting  it  when  the  morning  dawned.  But  when 
the  sun  lifted  himself  clear  of  the  hills,  and  sent  his 
bold  beams  across  the  cottage,  she  was  fighting  it  no 
longer.  The  two  principals  in  the  conflict  stood  face  to 
face,  and  China  Partins  was  not  the  conqueror.  The 
fifteen  years'  unceasing  fight  over  the  half  dormant  life 
of  Dalbert  Mozingo,  the  elder,  was  ended  with  strange 
suddenness.  If  the  name  of  the  bold  aggressor  had 
been  any  other  than  Death,  China  Partins  had  not  been 
robbed  of  her  treasure. 

By  intuition,  as  well  as  by  close  observation,  the  old 
woman  had  long  known  that  the  thread  of  life  was  liable 
to  snap.  Dalbert  Mozingo  was  not  weak  in  the  sense 


VISITING   THE    SIN  417 

of  general  frailty.  The  face  that  had  so  long  lain  upon 
the  pillow  was  that  of  a  well-nourished  and  ordinarily 
strong  man  ;  but  the  injuries  he  had  received  had  been 
of  such  a  character  that  a  strain  upon  the  vital  forces, 
a  shock  to  the  system,  or  an  unforeseen  accident,  might 
at  any  time  sever  his  connection  with  life.  Yet  it  was 
not  in  death,  but  in  the  possible  interference  with  her 
rights,  that  China  Partins  had  seen  the  coming  evil. 
She  had  cried,  "  Give  place ! "  to  Dalbert  Mozingo's 
children.  There  was  no  giving  place  with  death. 

"He's  done  gone!" 

The  old  woman  stood  over  the  bed  with  a  wild  sur- 
prise in  her  eyes.  She  had  many  a  time  fought  for  his 
life  with  greater  fear  than  had  possessed  her  that  night. 

"I  shain't  never  stand  betwixt  him  and  death  no 
more ! " 

The  thin,  wiry  fingers  bent  themselves,  and  then 
struck  out,  as  against  an  imaginary  foe,  with  all  the 
force  of  the  sinewy  arm  behind  them.  There  was  fight 
enough  left  in  that  old  heart  yet  to  defy  death  himself. 

The  silence  in  the  room  was  such  as  broods  over  a 
double  death, —  the  departure  of  a  life  and  the  death  of 
hope.  Suddenly  a  hoarse  voice  broke  the  frozen  silence 
with  a  low,  passionate  dirge,  strange  mixture  of  Bible 
phrases  and  heathen  incantations,  a  wild,  savage  protest 
against  fate.  Incoherent,  only  half  audible,  it  grew  clear 
enough  for  the  final  words  to  be  distinguished. 

"  A  worm  o'  the  dust,  trod  daown  and  beat  inter  the 
earth  and  bruised.  Ay,  sore  bruised,  but  not  crushed. 
Lor,  no !  thar's  turn  in  the  worm  yit.  The  wisdom  o' 
serpents.  Lor  !  hit's  true.  Thar's  critters  grovellin'  in 
the  dust  that  hain't  so  easy  got  the  better  on  as  the 
worm.  Conquered  ?  Separated  ?  Done  forced  to  give 
him  up  ?  No  !  " 

Then  with  a  quick  movement  the  whole  figure  changed 
its  aspect.  The  tall  form  drew  itself  up  with  a  mighty 


4i8  VISITING   THE    SIN 

effort  till  the  contracted  muscles  acknowledged  the  com- 
pelling force  and  the  bent  shoulders  straightened,  lifting 
the  head  inches  above  its  ordinary  height ;  the  long  arm 
reached  forth  with  the  forefinger  pointing  into  space  ;  and 
the  eyes,  that  had  been  vaguely  wandering,  shone  with  a 
peculiar  light. 

"  You  done  thought  to  git  the  best  o'  me !  You  done 
aimed  to  separate  us !  Lor !  you  cairit.  Hit'd  take 
more  'n  Death  to  du  tha-at.  All  the  world  may  be 
afraid  on  ye  because  your  name's  Death.  /  hain't. 
Thar  is  ways.  China  Partins  hain't  come  to  her  last 
fight  yit." 

The  arm  dropped,  the  muscles  of  the  figure  relaxed, 
the  shoulders  bowed  themselves  more  than  ever  before ; 
and  the  old  woman  bent  over  the  bed.  Tenderly  her 
fingers  stroked  the  stiffening  cheek,  and  the  old  eyes 
looked  into  those  others  that  had  not  yet  been  closed. 

"  They're  a-callin',"  she  said,  and  pressed  the  lids  ten- 
derly down. 

Death  had  not  been  harsh.  As  China  Partins  set 
about  the  performance  of  the  last  services  that  would  be 
needed  at  her  hands,  she  saw  no  sign  of  struggle.  Life 
had  made  but  a  mild  flicker  of  opposition,  a  feeble 
enough  protest  against  defeat.  That  one  afternoon's 
consciousness  of  the  things  about  it  —  whether  it  were 
full  appreciation  or  a  limited  feeling  after  understanding 
—  had  been  the  last  effort  of  the  soul  to  find  at  once 
light  and  expression.  The  rest  was  the  mere  animal 
struggle  for  life,  and  that  was  not  vigorous. 

The  sun  sent  a  broad,  jovial  beam  full  in  the  face  of 
China  Partins.  She  turned,  and  looked  out. 

"Shinin'  on  the  evil  and  on  the  guede,"  she  said 
aloud.  "  Lor !  thar  hain't  no  guede  left.  Hit's  plumb 
evil,  the  hull  on  hit." 

She  turned  away,  and  finished  her  work.  Then  she 
swept  up  the  cabin,  and  with  a  recklessness  never  wit- 


VISITING  THE   SIN  419 

nessed  before  went  to  the  wood-pile  and  took  therefrom 
an  armful  of  wood, —  not  weeds.  Skilfully  she  piled  it 
on  the  embers,  heaping  ashes  about  it  so  that  its  con- 
sumption might  be  slow. 

"She'll  be  a-comin'  to-day.  Thar  hain't  no  keepin* 
he-er  away,"  she  said.  "And  she'll  find  life  in  kit. 
Thar  '11  be  no  cold  hearth  in  China  Partins's  house." 

It  was  when  the  fire  was  banked  to  her  satisfaction 
that  she  saw  a  shadow  between  herself  and  the  sunlight. 
She  saw  nothing  else,  for  Lem  Sutton's  ear  had  not  yet 
lost  the  marks  of  the  penetrating  nails  that  had  tried 
their  strength  with  its  tough  skin,  and  the  boy  was  pro- 
portionately watchful.  The  circumstances  called  for 
caution ;  but  there  were  mysteries  up  here  on  the  moun- 
tain, and  mysteries  that  concerned  Dal.  Consequently 
it  was  Lem's  business  to  investigate. 

"  He  hain't  no  hand  at  findin'  aout  for  himself,"  said 
the  boy,  as  he  followed  in  the  track  of  Dai's  horse  to  the 
Gap,  a  full  hour  after  the  horse  itself  had  gone  on  to 
Hickory  Creek.  "  Lor !  hit  takes  a  right  smart  o'  sense 
to  see  all  that's  goin'  on.  Thar  might  piles  o'  things 
happen  right  under  hi-is  eyes  and  he'd  never  see  'em. 
I  got  to  lueke  aout  powerful  smart.  She  hain't  a-thinkin' 
of  his  interests.  She's  a-runnin'  her  own  concerns  and 
a-duin'  for  the  other  feller.  Shucks !  Will  Hollings- 
worth  hain't  a  patch  on  Dal.  She's  a  fool !  " 

Lem  scrambled  up  a  rock  that  was  not  manifestly  in 
his  way,  and  stood  on  its  summit  with  a  sense  of  mas- 
ter over  nature  and  scorn  of  the  girl  who  had  mistaken 
the  path  of  life  represented  by  the  pursuit  and  service 
of  Dalbert  Mozingo  for  the  inferior  by-way  of  any  other 
occupation.  Then  he  went  on  into  the  hollow  at  the 
back  of  the  mountains  and  dodged  the  sharp  eyes  of 
China  Partins. 

"  Thar  hain't  no  guede  hidin'  plumb  in  the  heart  o' 
that  blackberry  thicket.  Thar  might  some  people's 


420  VISITING   THE    SIN 

eyes  be  deceived  that  away,  but  they  hain't  the  eyes  o' 
China  Partins." 

The  old  woman  stood  in  the  doorway.  She  had  not 
seen  Lem  disappear  behind  that  luxuriant  clump  of 
vines.  It  was  not  apparent  how  she  managed  to  see 
him  now,  for  the  growth  of  tangled  green  that  was 
massed  between  him  and  the  speaker  should  have  been 
dense  enough  to  hide  a  more  substantial  figure. 

There  was  no  answer  to  the  words,  unless  a  scarcely 
perceptible  quiver  of  the  vines  were  an  answer.  Lem 
was  performing  a  backward  movement. 

China  Partins  stood  motionless  for  a  considerable  pro- 
portion of  a  minute.  Then  across  her  face  there  shot 
a  peculiar  light.  She  took  a  couple  of  steps  forward. 

"  You  can  come  right  aout  o'  thar,  and  du  what  you 
was  aimin'  at  duinV 

The  ring  in  the  sharp  voice  had  in  it  no  suggestion  of 
defeat.  It  came  across  the  space  to  Lem  Sutton,  and 
the  passion  in  it  increased  for  a  moment  the  pace  of  his 
heart  beats.  Its  next  words  stopped  his  hasty  flight. 

"  You  hain't  hangin'  raound  this  away  for  note.  Lor  ! 
du  you  think  I  don't  know  ?  You  done  come  to  see. 
We-el,  I  hain't  aimin'  to  stop  ye.  You  can  come  and 
lueke.  I  hain't  aimin'  to  hinder  ye  —  nor  to  touch  ye." 

Was  it  recklessness,  or  something  in  the  tone  of  the 
voice  that  made  the  boy  act  upon  the  last  statement  as 
if  he  believed  it  ?  He  tore  himself  free  of  the  bushes, 
with  hair  very  much  the  worse  for  his  close  acquaintance 
with  the  same,  and  stood  in  full  sight  of  the  eyes  that 
looked  him,  not  over,  but  through. 

"  You  come  to  see !  Boy,  you  done  come  at  the  right 
time.  Lor !  thar  hain't  been  a  day  for  fifteen  year  when 
thar  warn't  danger  for  ary  fool  that  come  pokin'  raound, 
spy  in'  on  China  Part  ins' s  concerns.  Thar  hain't  been  a 
day  till  this'n.  Lor !  that  thar  sun  ought  to  shine  blood 
to-day.  Hit's  a  fool  sun." 


VISITING   THE   SIN  421 

She  shot  a  fierce  glance  at  the  shining  orb,  and  stood 
between  the  boy  and  the  house,  tall,  unyielding,  aggres- 
sive, an  effectual  damper  on  any  enthusiasm  of  curiosity 
that  might  possess  the  lad  by  reason  of  her  words  of 
invitation. 

"You  needn't  to  be  scart,"  she  said,  moving  back 
towards  the  end  of  the  house,  and  leaving  a  free  course 
to  the  open  window.  "I  shain't  touch  ye." 

"Shucks !  I  hain't  scart,"  responded  the  boy,  disdain- 
ing to  glance  in  the  direction  of  the  danger  as  he  walked 
up  to  the  window. 

"Thar,  go  right  up  and  peek  in,"  commanded  the  old 
woman.  "  Take  a  right  smart  lueke,  so's  you  can  tell 
what  you  seed.  You  done  come  to  lueke.  Lor !  you 
didn't  come  for  note." 

She  was  watching  the  boy's  face.  She  saw  the  shadow 
of  awe  pass  over  it,  to  be  hastily  effaced  by  an  effort 
of  will,  and  replaced  by  an  expressionless  stare. 

"Lor!  yes,  he's  dead,"  she  said,  in  response  to  that 
first  look.  "Plumb  dead!  I  done  fit  Death  inch  by 
inch.  Boy,  thar  don't  lueke  no  more  the  matter  with 
him  naow  than  thar  did  yesterday  was  a  week.  But 
me  and  Death's  done  wrastled  over  him,  and  Death 
screeched,  <  Victory  ! '  Lor !  hit  hain't  so  sure." 

There  was  silence  for  a  long  minute.  Lem's  eyes 
gazed  upon  the  stiffened  face. 

"  I  said  I  wouldn't  live  without  him  !  And  he's  done 
gone  clar  away  in  spite  of  me.  Lor ! " 

Lem  was  too  fully  occupied  with  the  inside  of  the 
cabin  to  note  the  sudden  lurid  flash  of  the  old  eyes. 

"  Thar,  you've  done  seed  for  yourself.  Now  go  and 
tell  her"  said  the  old  woman,  in  a  low,  commanding  tone. 
"Tell  her  he's  all  ready  for  his  buryin'.  And  tell  her 
China  Partins  don't  lie." 

"  My  lor  !  what  '11  she  say  ?  He  was  her  dad !  "  ejacu- 
lated the  boy. 


422  VISITING   THE    SIN 

"You  go!" 

The  tall  figure  advanced  towards  the  window.  Lem 
effected  a  hasty  retrograde  movement. 

"I'm  goin',''  he  said,  with  a  glance  into  those  burn- 
ing, undecipherable  eyes. 

"  Mercy  !  they  'most  scorched  a  hole  through  me,"  he 
exclaimed  as  he  darted  off  out  of  their  range.  "  Dead  ! 
Lor!  hit's  a  sight." 

His  heels  showed  in  brisk  movement  as  he  kicked 
them  up  behind  him,  and  then  took  an  equally  useful 
but  less  prominent  position  while  he  stood  on  the  rock 
above  the  cabin,  and  turned  to  look  back  to  where  a  tall 
figure  held  itself  in  the  doorway.  Did  he  feel  the 
scorching  of  those  eyes  still,  or  was  it  the  outstretching 
of  the  finger  suddenly  thrust  forth  and  pointed  towards 
the  valley  that  made  him  scamper  on  till  he  was  fairly 
out  of  sight  ? 

"Lor!  what  '11  she  say  —  and  Dal?"  exclaimed  the 
boy.  "  I  thought  he'd  'a  stopped  in  thar  as  he  went  to 
Hickory  Creek.  Like  as  not  he  started  off  to  see  hef 
instead.  Thar  hain't  no  bein'  plumb  sure  he  didn't,  if 
he  did  say  he  warn't  goin'  to.  He  hain't  a  powerful 
guede  hand  at  keepin'  up  a  quarrel.  If  it  was  he-er" — 

He  broke  off  and  turned  in  among  the  rocks.  Given 
an  easy  and  commonplace  way  to  attain  an  object,  and 
a  perilous  and  out-of-the-ordinary  method,  there  would 
never  be  a  shade  of  hesitation  about  Lem's  choice.  On 
the  present  occasion  he  did  not  go  down  through  the 
open  valley  to  the  road  in  the  Gap.  If  he  had  done  so, 
he  might  have  met  Naomi. 

The  hollow  in  the  hills  where  the  cottage  stood 
looked  as  it  had  looked  every  summer  day  for  fifteen 
years.  But  upon  the  face  of  China  Partins  was  an  ex- 
pression that  no  previous  day  of  the  fifteen  summers 
had  witnessed. 

"I've  knowed  thar  was  evil  comin'  ever  since  she  sot 


VISITING   THE   SIN  423 

foot  in  the  valley.  Hit's  been  squallin'  in  the  winds, 
and  moanin'  in  the  trees.  Hit's  done  co-ome !  " 

She  stood  within  the  cabin,  facing  the  light  without. 
That  bit  of  tangled  hollow,  with  its  bushes  and  weeds, 
and  its  clinging  mass  of  blackberry  vines  immediately 
beyond,  had  met  her  eye  year  after  year  since  she 
brought  Dalbert  Mozingo  into  the  cabin  and  closed  the 
door  upon  the  world.  "  His  face  inside,  and  that  wild 
tangle  of  rock  and  greenery  without,  had  been  the 
limits  of  her  interest.  Now  the  foundation  of  life  was 
shaken.  The  perishable  green  plants  and  the  immov- 
able rock  remained,  both  alike  stable  enough  to  mock 
at  the  change  within. 

"  China  Partins  don't  lie !    She  hain't  spoke  for  note !  " 

Had  something  more  than  the  thread  of  one  life  been 
snapped  in  the  last  hours  ?  Those  old  eyes  had  many 
a  time  burned  with  anger,  or  leaped  into  fiercer  flame 
with  sudden  passion,  yet  they  had  never  held  such  fire 
as  scorched  within  them  now.  The  light  in  their  depths 
was  lurid. 

"  I  done  been  robbed  of  him  at  last ! " 

The  low,  hoarse  words  had  a  moan  in  them,  like  the 
sea  when  it  whispers  of  death. 

She  went  up  to  the  bed,  and  touched  the  calm  face. 
It  was  cold  beneath  her  fingers. 


424  VISITING   THE   SIN 


CHAPTER    XXIX 

THE  fire  on  the  hearth  had  burst  through  its 
barriers  and  leaped  into  liberty,  giving  utterance 
to  an  aggressive  snap  and  crackle  almost  in  the 
face  of  the  girl  who  stood  but  a  foot  or  two  from  it. 
The  position  was  peculiarly  ill-chosen  for  a  hot  summer 
day.  The  breath  of  the  fire  was  oppressive.  The  girl 
felt  suffocated.  Yet  she  did  not  step  back,  nor  turn 
her  face  from  its  glare. 

It  was  a  face  white  and  rigid,  a  match  for  that  upon 
the  bed,  or  for  the  other  which  was  pillowed  less  softly 
on  the  cabin  floor.  The  owner  of  the  face  was  trembling. 
For  the  time  Joeing  she  had  lost  the  strength  of  nerve, 
the  power  of  self-domination  that  was  the  instinct  of  her 
life.  She  stood  looking  down  at  the  flame,  scarcely 
conscious  that  its  heat  oppressed  her.  The  life  of  the 
fire  answered  to  the  beating  life  of  her  own  heart,  each 
in  its  way  a  protest  against  the  domination  of  horror 
and  death. 

Facing  the  fire,  she  had  her  back  to  the  room  and 
that  which  it  contained.  When  the  details  of  that 
scene  were  taken  into  consideration,  it  was  no  wonder 
the  hand  she  lifted  to  her  forehead  was  unsteady,  and 
the  thoughts  that  rushed  through  her  brain  appalling. 

"It's  plumb  sure  he  passed  through  the  Gap  this 
morning." 

Her  lips  shook.  There  was  enough  to  unnerve  her, 
even  without  the  thoughts  that  would  not  be  dissociated 
from  the  surroundings  into  which  she  had  stepped  with- 
out a  shadow  of  warning.  The  long,  ghastly  form  lying 
limp  and  still  on  the  boards  within  an  arm's  length  of 


VISITING   THE   SIN  425 

her  father's  bed  was  not  reassuring.  In  death,  as  in 
life,  the  face  of  China  Partins  was  fierce. 

"He'd  be  nearly  certain  to  come  here.  And  he 
didn't  know." 

She  was  still  staring  into  the  fire,  with  a  suspicious 
intentness  suggestive  of  fear  that  her  eyes  might  wander 
to  the  spot  where  the  owner  of  the  lonely  cabin  in  the 
hollow  lay  shot  through  the  heart,  dead  by  the  side  of 
her  charge.  To  pass  from  the  sunlit  peace  of  the  hollow 
without  into  the  mystery-haunted  gloom  of  a  cabin 
given  over  to  death,  was  an  experience  fruitful  in  the 
.awakening  of  fears  that  set  the  girl's  heart  beating 
irregularly  and  her  brain  combating  at  the  same  moment 
that  it  drew  into  line  certain  propositions  of  the  nature 
of  convictions. 

"  Big  Creek  has  never  quarrelled  with  her  in  all  these 
years.  She  has  lived  here  unmolested  in  spite  of  her 
lack  of  sociability.  Who  should  interfere  with  her 
to-day  ? " 

The  train  of  thought  went  on,  shaped  by  the  unex- 
plained, but,  to  Naomi,  not  unexplainable  tragedy  the 
log  cabin  had  witnessed  that  morning. 

"  And  it  is  certain  that  he  was  near  —  that  he  turned 
into  the  valley  from  the  Gap  not  many  hours  ago." 

The  one  fact  about  which  the  whole  argument  turned 
was  uppermost  still.  Her  hand  tried  to  steady  itself  as 
it  unclosed  and  brought  within  range  of  her  eyes  a  scrap 
of  paper,  found  on  her  way  to  the  cottage.  It  was  part 
of  an  envelope,  and  bore  the  date  of  that  very  day, 
while  upon  the  other  side  of  it  was  her  brother's  name, 
—  proof  beyond  contradiction  that  he  had  that  morning 
left  the  road  through  the  Gap  and  turned  into  the  little 
valley  leading  to  the  cottage. 

What  of  it  ?  Nothing,  until  she  pushed  open  the 
cabin  door,  and  stood  speechless,  too  much  horrified  at 
the  moment  for  consecutive  thought.  The  thought 
came  later.  It  grew  out  of  the  scene. 


426  VISITING   THE    SIN 

Dalbert  had  been  there  —  since  the  sun  rose.  Even 
in  the  first  moment  of  bewilderment  that  one  idea 
ranged  itself  by  the  side  of  the  newly  discovered  hor- 
ror. Dalbert  had  been  there,  and  China  Partins  had 
been  shot.  Afterwards  the  two  facts  assumed  a  more 
definite  relation. 

Dalbert  had  come  there  to  see  his  father,  to  demand 
of  this  woman  an  account  of  her  actions  with  regard  to 
him.  He  had  come  all  unprepared  for  that  which  he 
found, —  his  father  dead,  and  the  body  guarded,  dragon 
like,  by  an  old  woman  who  on  the  only  other  occasion 
on  which  he  had  set  foot  in  her  cabin  had  fiercely 
ordered  him  out  of  its  door.  He  had  never  heard  the 
secret  of  China  Partins's  life.  He  knew  her  only  as  a 
witch,  whom  suspicion  charged  with  divers  deeds  awe- 
some and  weird.  He  knew  nothing  of  her  devotion  to 
her  charge,  nothing  but  that  such  women  were  danger- 
ous, and  that  death  had  overtaken  his  father  suddenly 
in  her  house. 

"He  was  so  completely  in  the  dark  that  he  was  ready 
for  any  misconception,"  argued  the  girl.  "With  noth- 
ing but  misleading  facts  to  guide  him  it  was  no  wonder 
he  blundered  on  the  wrong  explanation.  He  could 
hardly  help  it." 

She  put  up  her  hand  to  push  back  a  refractory  ring 
of  hair.  It  lay  damp  and  clinging  on  her  forehead. 

"  Her  words  and  her  manner  would  be  enough  to  con- 
firm his  worst  imaginings.  After  his  death  she  would 
be  as  wild  as  a  savage  animal  robbed  of  its  young.  It 
was  only  my  father's  presence  that  made  it  safe  for  any- 
body to  come  near  her.  And  she  was  not  looking  for 
his  death.  It  must  have  been  as  great  a  shock  to  her 
as  to  anybody." 

One  half  of  the  story  of  that  death  dominated  cabin 
Naomi  had  read  at  a  glance.  Sudden  as  was  the  shock 
that  came  when  her  eye  fell  upon  her  father's  face,  it 


VISITING   THE    SIN  427 

brought  with  it  no  impulse  to  seek  for  life  there.  She 
recognised  the  presence  of  life's  rival.  And  even  in 
those  early  moments  the  calm  peace  of  that  sleep  of 
death  affected  her  less  painfully  than  the  unseeing  gaze 
of  his  eyes  had  done  when  she  was  last  at  the  cottage. 
The  knowledge  brought  a  sharp  shock,  a  sudden  con- 
traction of  the  heart,  but  none  of  the  horror  that  per- 
tained to  that  other  form,  lifeless  as  his,  to  which, 
however,  she  sprang  with  a  fierce  longing  to  find  some 
pulsation  of  life  yet  left,  some  flutter  of  breath  still  in  the 
nostrils. 

The  longing  came  before  the  connected  thought, 
before  a  certain  train  of  reasoning  set  the  girl's  lips 
shaking  and  her  hands  trembling.  The  half  acknowl- 
edged hope  had  faded  quickly,  and  the  fears  that  had 
sprung  into  being  at  that  first  glance  had  grown 
stronger  and  more  definite  as  the  minutes  passed.  She 
had  turned  away  to  the  fire  now,  assured  that  in  it  was 
the  only  life  that  pertained  to  the  cabin. 

It  was  because  she  was  looking  so  fixedly  into  the  fire 
that  she  did  not  see  the  face  of  a  man  a  few  inches  back 
from  the  window  opening.  The  firelight  was  in  her 
eyes,  so  that  the  shadow  of  Will  Hollingsworth  was  not 
perceived. 

Even  his  face  blanched  for  a  moment  at  the  sight  his 
eyes  beheld.  That  young,  lithe  figure  standing  in  the 
midst  of  death  sent  a  shudder  through  him.  Neverthe- 
less he  drew  nearer. 

"  Her  father,  by  all  the  witches  in  witchdom  !  The 
feller  that  old  Ken  Poteet  was  accused  of  putting 
underground ! " 

The  words  were  not  spoken  aloud,  and  they  came 
after  a  long,  close  scrutiny  of  the  face  upon  the  pillow. 
Even  now,  when  the  eyes  that  had  been  the  most  strik- 
ing point  of  resemblance  were  closed,  the  likeness  of 
that  face  to  Naomi's  was  too  plainly  marked  to  leave 


428  VISITING   THE   SIN 

room  for  doubt  of  the  relationship.  Some  things  that 
had  been  enigmatical  to  Will  became  suddenly  clear. 

It  was  not  a  time  for  a  girl  to  be  left  alone.  There 
was  enough  of  horror  inside  that  cabin  to  make  a  stout 
heart  quail.  The  figure  of  China  Partins  lay  ghastly 
and  terrible  upon  the  floor.  A  pool  of  blood,  not  yet 
congealed,  soaked  slowly  into  her  clothing,  and  her 
fingers  —  the  long,  claw-tipped  fingers — were  dabbled 
in  its  redness.  Yet  Will  Hollingsworth  made  no  move- 
ment to  reassure  the  girl  by  announcing  his  presence. 
He  was  studying  the  situation,  possibly  studying  also 
the  necessary  inference  that  would  follow  his  manifesta- 
tion of  himself  in  this  place. 

Will  had  followed  Naomi  through  the  Gap, —  always 
at  a  safe  distance.  It  had  been  because  the  distance 
was  safe  that  he  had  lost  sight  of  her  when  she  turned 
out  of  the  road,  and  had  consequently  come  late  upon 
the  scene.  Notwithstanding  the  lateness,  however,  to 
Naomi's  quick  mind  his  appearance  before  the  window 
would  hardly  fail  to  be  suggestive  of  dogged  footsteps. 
Yet  it  was  not  care  for  his  own  honour  that  kept  Will's 
tongue  silent.  The  expression  of  his  face  was  not  one 
of  shame,  neither  did  it  betray  concern  for  the  girl  he 
was  watching.  Slowly  into  the  eyes  that  had  for  the 
kst  minute  been  resting  on  the  back  of  Naomi's  head 
came  a  look  of  triumph. 

"  Caught  at  last !     It  began  to  look  like  defeat." 

He  breathed  a  sigh  of  satisfaction.  It  may  have  been 
that  sigh  which  caused  the  girl  to  look  up ;  it  may  have 
been  that  the  thread  of  the  argument  that  her  mind  was 
weaving  into  shape  carried  her  too  conclusively  to  a 
point  from  which  the  mind  recoiled.  She  turned  round. 

"You  here?" 

"  Yes.  Why  not  ?  We  have  always  been  partners 
in  the  avenging  of  the  death  of  your  father." 

She  moved  back  fully  two  steps,  till  the  fire  warned 


VISITING   THE   SIN  429 

her  in  friendly  crackle  that  there  was  danger  in  a  too 
close  contact  with  itself. 

The  eyes  that  sought  his  inquiringly  had  lost  the 
spark  of  defiance  that  had  rarely  been  absent  from  them 
of  late.  He  had  never  seen  them  less  aggressive. 

"I  do  not  understand  what  you  mean,"  she  said 
slowly.  "  I  have  found  my  father  —  and  lost  him." 

"  And  there  was  nothing  left  but  the  avenging." 

She  looked  at  him  with  startled  questioning. 

"  We  made  a  blunder  about  that, —  a  foolish  blunder, 
as  unjust  as  it  was  foolish,"  she  said  coldly.  "I  found 
it  out  too  late  to  remedy  it." 

"  Yes  —  I  see,"  he  answered.  "  But  not  too  late  to 
make  more  sure  next  time.  The  second  attempt  has 
not  miscarried,  whatever  may  have  been  the  fate  of  the 
first." 

His  glance  had  travelled  from  the  girl's  face  to  the 
stiffening  form  of  the  old  woman  on  the  floor.  If  he 
had  not  been  looking  down,  he  must  have  seen  the 
strange  light  that  came  into  Naomi's  eyes  and  then  left 
them  again.  She  drew  herself  up  proudly. 

"  You  think  7  had  anything  to  do  with  that  ? " 

She  also  was  looking  down  now. 

He  smiled. 

"  What  else  should  I  think  ? "  he  asked. 

There  was  a  momentary  hesitation.     Then  she  spoke. 

"  True,"  she  said.     "  What  else  should  you  think  ? " 

He  did  not  notice  the  slightest  possible  stress  on  the 
"you." 

"  Don't  be  alarmed.  I  am  not  prepared  to  think  the 
worst  of  you,"  he  said.  "  I  know  you  too  well  to  be 
altogether  surprised  —  at  this." 

He  was  still  looking  at  the  dead  face  of  China 
Part  ins. 

"  That  is  encouraging, —  very." 

He  looked  up  then. 


430  VISITING   THE   SIN 

"It  is  to  me,"  he  said  fiercely.  "Naomi,  we  have 
too  long  been  partners  in  —  well,  in  a  powerful  big 
mistake,  to  object  to  being  partners  now  in  a  crime." 

"Have  we?"  she  asked  in  an  incomprehensible  tone. 

"  Yes,"  he  replied  emphatically.  "  We  cannot  afford 
to  offend  each  other.  We  have  both  too  much  to  lose. 
And  we  have  pulled  together  long  enough  to  be  in 
no  danger  of  letting  a  little  secret  such  as  this  become 
anything  but  a  fairly  unanswerable  argument  in  favour 
of  our  joining  forces  for  the  rest  of  our  lives." 

She  understood  the  threat  in  his  words ;  but,  with 
a  return  of  her  accustomed  coolness,  she  ignored  the 
last  half  of  them. 

"Too  much  to  lose?"  she  said  reflectively.  "The 
chances  at  issue  being  —  what  ? " 

The  way  in  which  her  eyes  swept  over  to  the  window 
warned  him  that  the  defiance  was  not  all  dead.  The 
two  had  retained  their  original  positions,  Naomi  stand- 
ing before  the  hearth,  and  Will  looking  in  at  the  win- 
dow. They  had  no  fear  of  being  overheard.  The 
hollow  in  the  mountain  was  absolutely  deserted. 

"The  chances  at  stake  for  me?"  he  asked,  with 
a  savage  laugh.  "They  are  all  summed  up  in  one, — 
you.  I'll  swear  man  never  had  bigger.  Do  you  want 
to  know  the  other  side,  or  is  it  tolerable  plain  to  you  ? 
It  should  be.  There's  nobody  better  able  to  judge  of 
it.  All  Big  Creek  has  come  round  to  Naomi  Mozingo's 
way  of  thinking  about  the  kind  of  justice  that  should 
fall  on  the  head  of  a  murderer.  The  chances  at  stake 
—  with  this  suggestive  bit  of  tragedy  waiting  to  be  re- 
vealed—  don't  seem  hard  to  reckon  up.  It's  plumb 
awkward,  sometimes,  to  have  been  too  successful  in 
educating  public  morality." 

There  was  no  lack  of  aggression  in  her  eyes  now  — 
nor  of  defiance.  He  would  have  been  better  satisfied  if 
he  could  have  decided  what  he  saw  there  besides  the 
defiance. 


VISITING   THE   SIN  431 

"You  deal  in  pretty  words,"  she  said.  "Where,  in 
this  case,  do  your  astute  eyes  discover  the  head  of  the 
murderer,  which  is  to  prove  a  target  for  a  too  highly 
educated  popular  morality  ? " 

He  laughed. 

"  It  isn't  far  to  seek,  is  it  ? "  he  said.  "  Nobody  has 
entered  the  old  witch's  cabin  for  an  age.  Unlucky  for 
her  that  her  first  visitor  chanced  to  be  a  strong  believer 
in  vengeance.  The  inference  is  powerful  easy." 

"  Perhaps,"  she  said  quietly.  "  And  who  is  to  accuse 
me  of  murder  ? " 

She  spoke  the  word  unflinchingly,  with  a  little  smile 
as  she  approached  it." 

"Who?  Well,  nobody,  unless  you  make  a  second 
blunder  bigger  than  the  first,"  he  said.  "  Who  is  there 
to  do  it  ?  Nobody  knows  this  little  secret  but  you  and 
me.  The  old  hag  hasn't  a  host  of  friends,  I'll  answer 
for  it.  It  won't  be  a  powerful  big  matter  to  bury  her 
here,  right  under  her  own  cabin,  and  —  your  father  with 
her.  It's  the  safest  plan,  if  not  the  pleasantest.  No- 
body will  be  asking  after  her  for  a  smart  sight.  And 
when  they  do,  they'll  think  she  has  ridden  off  on  a 
broomstick  or  some  other  steed  usually  appropriated 
by  witches.  Lucky  for  us  the  old  woman  led  an  un- 
sociable life." 

She  made  him  no  answer.  Her  eyes  had  dropped  to 
the  floor  again.  He  was  at  a  loss  to  know  what  infer- 
ence to  draw  from  her  silence.  He  waited  to  give  her 
time  to  weigh  the  situation.  His  faith  in  the  circum- 
stances that  had  at  last  played  so  conveniently  into  his 
hands  was  firm  enough  to  give  him  confidence.  Naomi 
was  no  fool.  She  knew  when  she  was  beaten. 

"Your  proposition  is  startling,"  she  said  at  last, — 
"  too  startling.  Your  plan  can  be  improved  upon.  My 
father  merits  a  better  burial.  Since  you  see  no  ob- 
stacle to  our  working  together,  what  is  to  hinder  you 


432  VISITING   THE   SIN 

from  dropping  aout  of  the  business,  and  going  back  to 
the  valley  as  innocent  of  all  knowledge  of  China  Par- 
tins' s  cottage  as  before  you  came  ?  Big  Creek  will  not 
necessarily  take  it  for  granted  that  you  followed  me 
here." 

If  the  last  words  struck  home,  they  failed  to  produce 
any  sign. 

"  But  you  ? "  returned  Will.  "  How  will  you  make 
yourself  safe  ?  This  is  a  tolerable  dangerous  fix,  if  ary 
person  finds  it  aout.  It's  of  you  I'm  thinking." 

"  Are  you  ? "  she  said ;  and  there  was  a  shade  more  of 
inquiry  in  the  tone  than  was  pleasant.  "  Then  you  may 
set  your  mind  at  rest.  I  can  take  care  of  myself.  It  is 
possibly  an  easier  matter  than  you  imagine.  In  twenty- 
four  hours'  time  I  shall  call  in  all  the  spies  of  the  vil- 
lage to  take  your  place  at  that  window  and  look  in  upon 
this  scene.  But  it's  plumb  necessary  to  get  time  for 
my  plans  to  mature.  I  have  a  story  to  tell  Big  Creek 
that  will  set  it  searching  all  creation  before  it  charges 
Naomi  Mozingo  with  the  death  of  the  woman  who 
sheltered  her  father." 

He  looked  at  her  doubtfully.  She  was  strangely 
reckless, —  far  less  influenced  by  fear  than  he  had  an- 
ticipated. But  fear  and  Naomi  Mozingo  had  never 
been  close  acquaintances. 

"As  you  will,"  he  said.  "It  looks  powerful  danger- 
ous to  me,  but  I'm  ready  to  risk  it.  There's  only 
one  thing  I  won't  risk,  and  that's  losing  you." 

"You  had  better  go  back  to  the  village,"  she  said. 
"  I  shall  stay  here  till  you  are  gone.  We  don't  want  to 
be  seen  together.  Go  and  look  after  the  mill." 

When  he  had  gone,  she  turned  and  stared  into  the 
fire  again. 

"  A  plumb  slap  in  the  face  by  fate  ! " 

Her  laugh,  mirthless  and  low,  broke  the  long  still- 
ness. 


VISITING   THE   SIN  433 

"  Kin  to  a  murderer  and  personally  accused  of  the 
crime !  Looks  tolerably  suggestive  of  certain  accusa- 
tions coming  home  like  chickens  to  roost." 

She  laughed  scornfully  again,  and  let  the  thought 
take  root.  She  had  never  been  slow  to  tell  herself  un- 
pleasant truths. 

Presently  she  went  over,  and  drew  the  shutter  to  and 
fastened  it.  Then  she  stepped  out  into  the  hot  air. 
She  did  not  lock  the  door.  With  the  exception  of  the 
closed  shutter,  she  had  left  everything  as  she  found  it. 

Anger  at  the  trap  in  which  Will  Hollingsworth  had 
caught  her  for  the  moment  overpowered  the  gnawing 
pain  at  her  heart.  But  for  the  conviction  that  the  root 
of  that  pain  was  set  in  a  certainty,  she  would  have 
thrown  his  accusations  back  in  his  face.  She  was  not 
at  liberty  to  follow  her  inclination. 

She  had  little  doubt  that,  in  a  fit  of  what  seemed  to 
him  righteous  indignation,  her  brother  had  shot  the  old 
woman.  He  had  undoubtedly  been  provoked.  It  was 
even  possible  that  the  deed  had  been  done  in  self-de- 
fence. But  the  fact  remained.  The  son  of  Dalbert 
Mozingo,  the  elder,  had  violently  taken  the  life  of  the 
woman  who  for  fifteen  years  had  sheltered  and  cher- 
ished his  father.  It  would  be  hard  to  prove  that  there 
was  excuse  for  the  deed. 

The  crime  of  murder  lay  against  the  name  of  Mo- 
zingo, and  she  was  going  to  warn  the  murderer.  For 
more  than  twelve  months  she  had  elaborated  arguments 
in  support  of  certain  theories  respecting  the  righteous 
punishment  of  the  man  who  could  take  the  life  of  an- 
other. To-day  she  was  hurrying,  with  trembling  limbs, 
to  advise  one  such  to  keep  out  of  the  way  while  she 
distorted  facts  and  skilfully  covered  a  crime.  So  much 
for  her  theories. 

That  Dal  would  be  wise  enough  not  to  return  to  the 
scene  of  danger  was,  in  her  estimation,  too  much  to  ex- 


434  VISITING   THE    SIN 

pect.  It  would  be  just  like  him,  when  the  heat  of  pas- 
sion was  over,  to  come  back  and  give  himself  up.  It 
was  this  she  was  making  it  her  business  to  prevent. 

She  did  not  know  where  to  seek  her  brother.  Not- 
withstanding the  fact  that  he  had  been  in  the  village 
the  day  before,  she  was  in  ignorance  of  his  arrange- 
ments. She  had  waited  for  him  to  come  to  her,  and  he 
had  failed  her.  She  did  not  know  in  what  part  of 
Hickory  Creek  to  look  for  him.  On  the  whole,  she 
preferred  meeting  him  on  the  road  beyond  the  Gap. 
Her  plan  was  to  lay  in  wait  for  him  as  he  came  back 
that  night.  She  had  a  somewhat  firm  conviction  that 
he  would  come  back. 

For  the  present  she  did  not  fear  discovery.  Nobody 
went  into  that  hollow  of  the  hills  for  months  at  a  time ; 
and  if  any  did  chance  to  wander  thither  on  this  par- 
ticular day,  he  would  leave  the  log  cabin  alone.  The 
unsociable  habits  of  China  Partins  were  well  understood. 

Naomi  could  afford  to  put  off  all  action  till  Dalbert 
came,  let  him  be  ever  so  late.  To-morrow,  when  he  was 
safely  out  of  Big  Creek,  she  would  go  up  through  the 
Gap  and  rediscover  the  tragedy  of  the  old  witch's  death. 
When  she  had  told  the  story  of  China  Partins's  devo- 
tion to  the  father  of  Dalbert  and  Naomi  Mozingo,  there 
would  be  few  who  would  think  to  accuse  the  son  of  the 
dead  man  of  the  murder  that  had  been  committed. 

The  plan  was  not  a  hard  one  to  carry  out,  but  Dal- 
bert must  first  be  got  out  of  the  way.  He  was  a  most 
successful  blunderer  where  deception  was  concerned. 

The  scheme  had  been  perfect  —  until  Will  Hollings- 
worth  appeared  on  the  scene.  Now  there  were  compli- 
cations. Nevertheless  Naomi  was  on  her  way  to  carry 
out  her  original  intention.  Dalbert  must  be  warned. 
The  danger  to  him  was  imminent  —  in  view  of  his  own 
character.  Afterwards  there  would  be  other  matters  to 
consider. 


VISITING   THE    SIN  435 


CHAPTER   XXX 

WHEN  Naomi  Mozingo  left  the  hollow  in  the 
mountain,  her  intention  was  to  go  on  towards 
Hickory  Creek.  In  reality  she  turned  in  the 
opposite  direction.  She  had  seen  Will  Hollingsworth 
in  the  distance. 

"  He'll  hang  round  till  he  spoils  everything,"  she  said 
angrily.  "  Does  he  think  I'm  going  to  run  away  ? " 

Perhaps  he  did,  or  something  like  it.  He  distrusted 
the  look  in  her  eyes.  Because  it  was  incomprehensible, 
he  feared  it. 

"What  is  to  prevent  her  meeting  Dal  and  getting 
clear  of  the  place  before  anybody's  the  wiser  ? "  he  said. 
"  Dai's  horse  would  carry  double.  It  would  be  just  like 
her  to  fool  me  yet." 

His  feet  moved  hurriedly,  however,  when  she  turned 
towards  Big  Creek.  He  was  not  anxious  that  she 
should  overtake  him.  He  was  considerably  nonplussed 
when  he  saw  her  enter  the  house  that  before  her  re- 
moval to  the  mill  had  been  that  of  her  nearest  neigh- 
bour. He  had  not  thought  her  in  a  mood  for  company. 

He  would  perhaps  have  been  a  little  more  surprised 
if  he  had  heard  her  announce  to  her  hostess  that  her 
brother  was  going  away  immediately  to  start  another 
mill,  and  "she  was  aimin'  to  keep  house  for  him." 

"  Lor !  what  does  Will  Hollingsworth  say  ? "  de- 
manded the  woman. 

Naomi  shrugged  her  shoulders. 

"  There  is  all  outside  to  come  to  an  understanding 
with  him  in,"  she  said.  "  Ary  one  house  is  too  small." 

"  Mercy  !  "  rejoined  the  woman.  "  I  should  say  hit 
would  be.  I  see  him  pass  here  twice  this  mornin'." 


436  VISITING   THE    SIN 

"He'll  rest  better  when  I'm  gone  —  and  so  shall  I," 
laughed  Naomi.  "  Will  you  give  me  some  dinner  ? " 

Where  in  all  the  village  wouldn't  the  girl  have  been 
welcome  to  dinner  with  such  a  suggestive  bit  of  news 
to  impart  ?  For  weeks  now  Big  Creek  had  been  agog ; 
and  since  the  death  of  Abner  Poteet  talk  had  grown 
lively.  Every  fresh  piece  of  news  was  added  with  in- 
terest to  the  general  fund,  and  the  discoverer  of  the 
same  became  for  the  time  being  a  person  of  importance. 

Naomi  stayed  until  the  afternoon  was  fairly  passed, 
maliciously  conscious  that  for  the  present  she  had  out- 
witted Will  Hollingsworth.  He  had  been  forced  to 
follow  her  advice,  and  go  back  to  the  mill.  He  could 
not  well  stay  watching  the  house  for  hours. 

"  Lor  !  she's  a  cool  one,"  said  the  neighbour,  as  Naomi 
stepped  out  into  the  slanting  sunlight.  "Thar  don't 
nothin'  upset  her.  She  didn't  feel  mighty  easy  abaout 
the  death  of  Ab  Poteet,  though.  Lor !  hit  hain't  likely 
she  would.  She  was  a  plumb  sight  too  hard  on  Ab, 
and  I  doclar  she  knows  hit." 

The  good  woman  had  not  neglected  to  discuss  recent 
topics  of  interest  with  her  visitor.  Why  should  she  lose 
so  favourable  an  opportunity  ?  Events  were  happening 
thick  and  fast  at  Big  Creek  now,  and  opinion  was 
changing  at  an  unprecedented  rate.  Authoritative  in- 
formation was  worth  something. 

"  She'll  tell  it  all  over  Big  Creek  in  less  than  an 
hour,"  said  Naomi.  "  It  will  prepare  the  way  for  future 
revelations." 

She  smiled  mirthlessly  as  she  imagined  the  effect  of 
the  rumour  on  Will  Hollingsworth,  when  it  should  come 
to  his  ears,  as  it  would  hardly  fail  to  do  before  long. 
Will  was  just  now  the  unmanageable  element  in  the 
difficulty. 

He  seemed  a  very  persistent  element ;  for  when  the 
girl  had  got  well  into  the  Gap,  and  with  an  apparently 


VISITING   THE   SIN  437 

careless  movement  had  turned  her  head  to  look  at  the 
cloudless  sky,  she  saw,  as  she  swept  her  eyes  down 
again,  that  which  made  her  change  her  original  plan. 
Instead  of  continuing  her  walk  through  the  Gap,  she 
disappeared  suddenly  from  the  roadway,  seeking  the 
shelter  afforded  by  a  sharp  dip  in  the  bank  of  the  stream 
and  a  friendly  tangle  of  bushes. 

Big  Creek  lay  low  in  its  banks  to-day.  There  was  a 
point  where  flat  rocks  in  its  bed  were  uncovered,  and  it 
was  possible  to  walk  across  the  stream  with  only  a  step 
or  two  where  the  water  came  above  the  ankles.  There 
.was  a  strong  feeling  of  irritation  in  Naomi's  heart  as 
she  set  her  feet  on  the  slippery  rock  bed,  and  trusted 
herself  to  the  shallow  water. 

"  Hunting  for  murderers  seems  to  be  a  powerful  pop- 
ular amusement  in  Big  Creek,"  she  muttered.  "  That's 
what  comes  of  setting  the  fashion." 

In  all  the  defeats  of  the  last  weeks  the  girl  had  never 
been  quite  as  sore  at  heart  as  she  was  to-day.  Will 
Hollingsworth's  accusation  had  come  as  a  climax.  Na- 
omi was  proud,  and  fate  was  hitting  her  hard. 

To  Will  Hollingsworth's  opinion,  as  such,  she  was 
indifferent.  It  was  that  which  Will  did  not  know,  that 
which  his  accusation  must  for  the  present  be  made  to 
cover,  that  gave  the  real  sting  to  the  imputation.  It 
would  not  be  difficult  for  Naomi  Mozingo  to  prove  to 
the  satisfaction  of  Big  Creek  that  she  was  not  the  mur- 
derer of  China  Partins.  If  it  had  been  half  as  easy  to 
prove,  to  her  own  satisfaction,  that  she  was  not  that  de- 
spised, reprehensible  person,  the  nearest  of  kin  to  a 
murderer,  her  heart  would  not  have  beat  with  such 
angry  soreness  to-day. 

"  You  make  no  distinction  ?  "  Why  should  the  words 
come  up  as  clearly  now  as  when  she  heard  the  voice  of 
Marshall  Rutherford  utter  them  ? 

She  bowed  her  head  to  her  own  verdict.     She  was 


438  VISITING   THE    SIN 

not  the  murderer  of  the  old  woman  who  lay  dead  in  her 
long-defended  stronghold,  but,  on  her  own  showing,  she 
was  a  sharer  in  the  consequences  of  the  crime.  She 
could  not  get  clear  of  her  kinship  with  the  man  whose 
hand  had  been  responsible  for  the  ruin.  Nay,  she  did 
not  want  to  be  clear  of  that  kinship.  She  had  said  that 
she  made  no  distinction.  At  this  moment  she  forcibly 
realised  that  there  are  distinctions,  even  in  crime. 

The  horror  of  the  deed  itself  had  entered  her  soul. 
That  its  victim  was  China  Partins,  a  woman  who  had 
merited  nothing  but  good  at  the  hands  of  Dalbert  Mo- 
zingo's  children,  seemed  to  her  a  cruel  aggravation  of 
the  case.  Her  gratitude  to  the  old  woman  had  been 
strong.  The  terrible  irony  of  the  fate  that  had  repaid 
the  saver  of  a  life  with  a  violent  death  presented  itself 
to  her  forcibly.  She  was  mourning  less  for  her  father 
than  for  the  woman  who  had  lost  him  and  her  life  in 
one  day. 

She  had  reached  the  opposite  side  of  the  stream.  Big 
Creek  lay  between  her  and  the  road,  and  great  ramparts 
of  rock  rose  sheer  before  her.  A  huge,  sloping  wall  of 
nature's  masonry,  of  such  a  form  that  it  was  hard  to 
believe  it  had  not  been  part  of  a  giant  castle  that  had 
once  held  sway  over  this  wild  defile,  invited  her  to  its 
shelter.  Even  Will  Hollingsworth's  eyes  might  search 
for  her  long,  when  once  she  had  gained  a  hiding-place  in 
its  cover. 

That  he  had  followed  her  into  the  pass  was  unfortu- 
nate. She  must  see  Dalbert  alone.  His  safety  de- 
pended on  it.  If  the  worst  came  to  the  worst,  it  would 
have  to  come  to  a  trial  of  strength  between  her  and 
Will.  The  time  when  she  could  dictate  terms  had  not 
entirely  passed. 

She  had  some  hope  of  tiring  him  out,  however.  So 
long  as  he  saw  her  ahead  of  him,  he  would  follow. 
When  he  lost  sight  of  her,  there  was  a  possibility  that 


VISITING   THE    SIN  439 

he  would  grow  weary  of  the  chase.  To  search  through 
a  chaos  of  rock  such  as  lay  about  her  on  every  side 
would  require  the  patience  of  a  more  persevering  hunter 
than  Will  Hollingsworth.  To  tire  him  out,  or  elude 
him  upon  the  mountain  side  and  pass  beyond  him  when 
the  shadows  of  evening  began  to  gather,  was  not  an  im- 
possible outcome  of  the  situation.  In  a  minute  Naomi 
was  scrambling  up  between  fallen  boulders,  seeking  the 
most  convenient  hiding-place.  With  a  sharp  pang  she 
remembered  that  it  was  among  these  very  rocks  her 
father  had  crouched,  while  the  soldiers  above  hunted  for 
his  life. 

She  had  a  good  view  of  the  road  round  the  corner  of 
the  rock  she  chose  as  shelter,  and  the  silence  of  the 
pass  was  conducive  to  the  hearing  of  distant  sounds. 
She  could  hardly  be  surprised  from  either  hand ;  and  if 
Dalbert  should  come  sooner  than  she  expected,  there 
would  yet  be  time  for  her  to  cross  the  stream.  Of  Will 
she  saw  nothing.  He  might  be  waiting  further  down 
the  Gap,  or  he  might  have  returned  to  Big  Creek. 
From  the  fact  that  he  had  not  passed  along  the  open 
stretch  of  road  visible  from  her  hiding-place, —  which 
stretch  included  the  greater  part  of  the  pass, —  she  con- 
cluded that  he  had  given  up  the  pursuit.  Neverthe- 
less she  decided  to  retain  her  present  position  till  the 
shadows  of  evening  could  be  turned  into  allies. 

It  was  very  lonely  here  in  the  Gap  as  the  sun  sank 
lower.  Nature  has  a  trick  of  striking  minor  chords 
upon  the  heart  that  is  oppressed  with  dread  or  heavy 
with  sorrow.  The  grandeur  and  strength  of  the  moun- 
tain wall  above  and  before  her  spoke  to  Naomi  less  of 
safety  than  of  insurmountability.  The  littleness  of 
human  personality  in  the  midst  of  this  all-embracing 
world  of  rock  and  trees  and  water  oppressed  her.  The 
departing  day  had  in  it  a  pathos  that  brought  tears  to 
her  eyes.  She  had  never  seen  the  sunset  so  before. 


440  VISITING   THE    SIN 

Supper  had  long  been  over  in  the  village,  and  Big 
Creek  was  outside  its  doors,  seeking  for  coolness.  It 
was  coming  with  the  death  of  day  and  the  damp  inrush 
of  night.  And  at  the  same  time  there  was  coming  upon 
the  breeze  that  in  little  puffs  swept  through  the  Gap 
the  sound  of  a  horse's  feet.  Naomi  rose,  and  hastily  de- 
scended the  steep  slope  of  the  mountain.  Dalbert  was 
coming  sooner  than  she  expected. 

Undoubtedly  her  breath  came  irregularly  as  she 
dipped  her  feet  in  the  stream.  It  might  not  be  Dalbert ; 
but  she  thought  she  knew  Charley's  step,  even  in  the 
distance.  So  did  another  listener  not  many  yards  away 
on  the  other  side  of  Big  Creek. 

"  Dalbert ! " 

Naomi  had  gone  hastily  forward  to  meet  her  brother. 
For  several  minutes  the  hoof-beats  had  been  coming 
nearer. 

"You  here?" 

He  drew  rein  sharply.  His  face  betrayed  no  pleas- 
ure at  the  meeting.  Since  the  death  of  Abner  Poteet, 
Dalbert  had  found  it  hard  to  forgive  his  sister.  Re- 
cent discoveries  had  put  that  death  in  an  unpleasant 
light.  The  present  sudden  encounter  with  Naomi 
brought  no  brotherly  smile  to  his  lips.  She  put  her 
own  construction  upon  the  absence  of  welcome. 

"I  have  been  to  the  house  of  China  Partins,"  she 
said  hurriedly.  u  Why  didn't  you  come  to  see  me  ? 
Then  all  this  would  have  been  avoided,  and  she  might 
have  been  alive  now  —  instead  " — 

"  Instead  of  lying  stiff  and  stark,  keeping  horrid  guard 
over  the  cabin  that  was  never  more  effectually  barred 
against  intruders  in  the  old  hag's  lifetime  than  it  is 
now  by  the  grim  stare  of  her  dead  eyes,"  interrupted  a 
strong  voice  immediately  behind  Naomi.  "Dal,"  con- 
tinued Will  Hollings worth,  coming  out  from  the  cover 
of  the  thicket  upon  the  mountain  side,  "this  sister  of 


VISITING   THE    SIN  441 

yours  has  had  her  will  at  last.  Her  ringers  have  been 
itching  for  the  chance  to  put  a  bullet  through  the  heart 
of  her  father's  murderer.  You  may  congratulate  her 
to-day.  They'll  never  itch  that  away  again." 

He  looked  at  the  girl  with  a  malicious  laugh  on  his 
lips.  She  was  watching  Dalbert,  and  did  not  see  the 
look.  Her  first  thought  was  to  prevent  her  brother 
from  criminating  himself. 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?     What  have  you  been  up  to  ?  " 

Dalbert  spoke  sternly. 

"  Don't  count  me  in,"  replied  Will  lightly.  "  I  came 
on  the  scene  after  the  last  act  was  over." 

"  Better  go  off  it  again,  if  you  value  the  success  of 
your  plans,"  said  a  girl's  voice  in  low,  meaning  tones. 
"  The  mill  is  a  safer  place  for  the  furtherance  of  your 
wishes  than  the  Gap  at  the  present  moment." 

Even  while  she  spoke,  Naomi  was  looking  at  Dalbert 
warningly.  He  misunderstood  the  look. 

"  I  don't  know  what  you  came  here  for,"  he  said, 
addressing  his  words  to  Will.  "  There's  little  enough 
but  rascality  you  ever  have  a  hand  in.  Stand  aside ! 
I'm  going  on  to  Big  Creek  to  see  what  new  abomination 
you  have  been  concocting." 

"  No,  you  are  not !     Dalbert,  don't  be  a  fool !  " 

Naomi's  hand  was  on  Charley's  nose.  The  touch 
was  as  effectual  a  barrier  to  progress  as  a  stone  wall 
would  have  been. 

"Let  it  pass,  Dalbert,"  she  said,  reaching  up  as  if  to 
speak  caressing  words  to  the  horse.  "Behave  as  if 
you  believed  it.  I  can  get  you  out  of  this  difficulty, 
and  there  is  nothing  to  be  gained  by  facing  it.  Don't 
you  understand ? "  she  added.  "He  does  not  know. 
Nobody  knows.  He  thinks  I  did  it.  There  is  no  sus- 
picion that  you  were  at  her  house  this  morning." 

The  low,  clearly  spoken  sentences  travelled  no 
further  than  to  her  brother's  ears,  They  had  the  op- 
posite of  the  desired  effect, 


442  VISITING   THE    SIN 

"  I  don't  know  what  you  are  talking  about,"  he  said 
impatiently.  "  What  are  you  trying  to  tell  me  ?  Say 
it  openly.  If  you  are  afraid  of  this  feller,  I'm  not. 
Whose  house  was  I  supposed  to  be  in  this  morning  ? " 

"  You  ? " 

Will  stood  looking  in  puzzled  wonder  from  one  to 
the  other.  Then  he  gave  utterance  to  a  shrill  whistle. 

"  Mercy  sakes  !  the  plot  thickens,"  he  said.  "  Things 
are  growing  interesting." 

"  Dangerously  so,"  replied  Naomi  quietly.  "  More 
than  one  plan  is  in  plumb  danger  at  the  present  mo- 
ment." 

He  laughed. 

"  I'm  not  afraid,"  he  said.  "  You  can't  afford  to  play 
me  false.  I'm  here  to  look  after  you.  I  have  the 
right  now.  Besides,  I'm  getting  an  insight  into  a  power- 
ful interesting  subject." 

"  What  does  he  mean  ?  Speak  out.  I  don't  under- 
stand either  your  words  or  your  signs.  I'm  not  afraid 
of  him.  If  you  are,  so  much  the  worse  for  you." 

It  was  Dalbert's  answer  to  a  last  attempt  to  warn 
him.  Naomi  gave  it  up  in  despair. 

"  Don't  be  too  sure  of  your  ground,  my  fine  feller," 
retorted  Will,  a  savage  intonation  appearing  in  his  voice. 
"  Murder  is  an  ugly  thing  at  close  quarters." 

"  Murder  !  What  murder  ?  You've  been  harping  at 
that  before.  Do  you  want  to  accuse  me  of  it  ? " 

If  Dalbert  had  desired  to  apprise  the  whole  country- 
side of  the  accusation,  he  could  hardly  have  spoken  in 
less  guarded  tones. 

"  No.     He  restricts  his  charges  to  me." 

Naomi's  eyes  were  lifted  to  her  brother's  face.  She 
had  grown  pale,  even  to  the  lips. 

"  Does  he  lie  ? " 

She  looked  into  his  eyes,  and  her  own  spoke  elo- 
quently. He  could  not  read  their  message. 


VISITING   THE    SIN  443 

"  Does  he  lie  ? "  he  repeated. 

She  evaded  the  question.  She  was  at  a  loss  to 
understand  his  asking  it. 

"  China  Partins  was  shot  in  her  own  house  this  morn- 
ing," she  said.  "  Our  father  lay  dead  by  her  side. 
Will  found  me  there,  and  drew  his  own  conclusions. 
For  the  present  you  had  better  do  the  same." 

"  And  you  do  not  deny  it  ? " 

The  question  was  thundered  into  the  evening  air. 

"  I  neither  deny  it  nor  acknowledge  it,"  she  said 
quietly. 

They  stood  looking  at  each  other.  Then  Will  burst 
into  a  loud  laugh. 

"  I  declare  I  don't  know  which  is  the  murderer,  after 
all,"  he  said. 

Naomi  turned  upon  him  with  scornful  eyes. 

"  You  had  better  make  your  accusation  broad  enough 
to  cover  all  contingencies,"  she  said.  "You  are  bent 
on  undoing  yourself." 

Then  softly,  as  Dalbert  would  have  spoken,  she 
added  for  her  brother's  benefit :  "  Hush !  Let  it  rest 
as  it  is.  I  can  throw  it  off  better  than  you  can.  I  tell 
you  I  can  get  aout  of  this  if  you  will  only  listen  to 
reason." 

"  Better  than  I  can  ?  What  do  you  mean  ? "  Light 
was  at  last  dawning  upon  Dalbert's  mind.  "  Do  you 
think,  does  he  think,  I  shot  the  old  woman  ? " 

She  did  not  answer.  For  the  moment  she  could  not. 
She  was  staring  at  him  in  blank  surprise. 

"It  might  be  either  of  you,"  said  Will  reflectively. 
"  You  both  carry  pistols  ;  and  you  had  about  equal  cause 
for  a  grudge  against  an  old  woman  who,  by  arts  better 
known  to  herself  than  to  the  rest  of  the  world,  got  your 
esteemed  relative  and  all  he  possessed  into  her  power, 
and  then  finished  him  up  in  a  hurry.  It  was  perhaps  as 
likely  to  be  one  as  the  other.  But  I  confess  I  think 


444  VISITING   THE   SIN 

one  pair  of  hands  would  be  more  ready  to  turn  the 
grudge  into  a  flying  bullet  than  the  other.  I  wouldn't 
swear  to  it,  though." 

The  words,  or  the  interval  during  which  they  were 
uttered,  produced  a  very  different  effect  on  the  two 
listeners.  Naomi's  lips  had  lost  their  stiffness.  The 
smile  that  played  upon  them  was  enigmatical  to  Will. 

"  Dal,"  she  began ;  but  her  brother  interrupted  her. 

"  I  see,"  he  said  slowly.  "  China  Partins  is  dead. 
One  of  us  is  supposed  to  be  guilty  of  the  murder. 
Better  fetch  the  sheriff,  and  let  him  find  aout  which 
it  is." 

"  Lor !  hain't  you  all  fools ! " 

Lem  was  surveying  the  group  with  eyes  that  twinkled 
in  the  evening  light.  Just  how  he  had  dropped  down 
in  the  rear  of  Dai's  horse  nobody  could  have  told. 

"  Lor  me !  "  he  continued.  "  Hit  don't  take  long  to 
git  powerful  mixed  up  when  three  on  ye  start  to  know 
plumb  all  abaout  what  hain't  to  be  knowed.  Mercy ! 
You-uns  hain't  no  call  to  quarrel  over  what  pistol  done 
hit.  Hit's  thar.  You-all  can  lueke  at  hit.  Hit's 
yander,  under  the  chist,  whar  she  throwed  it  when  she 
done  pulled  the  trigger.  Lor!  she  was  a  one.  She 
done  shot  herself  plumb  dead  and  throwed  the  pistol 
away  with  one  move  of  her  hand.  She  warn't  alive  a 
minute  atter.  Mercy  sakes  !  she  was  a  wi-itch,  and  no 
mistake ! " 

"  You  saw  her  die  ? " 

Dalbert  was  off  Charley's  back,  his  hand  on  the  boy's 
shoulder.  Lem's  eyes  shone. 

"  See  her  ?  I  reckon,"  he  said.  "  She  warn't  a-knowin' 
hit,  though.  She  done  told  me  to  lueke  in  at  the  winder 
to  see  as  he  was  dead.  I  see  a  sight  more  'n  she  reck- 
oned on  afore  I  was  done.  « Go  and  tell  her?  she  says. 
'Tell  her  China  Partins  don't  lie.'  I  hain't  knowin' 
what  she  meant.  I'm  a-tellin'  ye  what  she  said.  I 


VISITING  THE   SIN  445 

hain't  guede  at  fixin'  and  mixin'.  Hit'd  'a  tuk  him  to 
know  plumb  sure  what  she  was  aimin'  at." 

An  emphatic  jerk  of  the  head  in  Will  Hollingsworth's 
direction  emphasised  the  words. 

"  She  said  she  would  never  live  without  him  !  " 

The  words  dropped  from  Naomi's  lips  without  con- 
scious volition.  She  hardly  knew  that  she  spoke  them 
aloud. 

"  Lor !  that  was  hit,"  ejaculated  Lem.  « I  was  plumb 
sure  thar  was  mischief  abaout,  though  I  warn't  knowin' 
what  hit  was.  I  seed  hit  in  her  eyes.  'I'm  a-goin','  I 
says ;  and  I  went.  But  she  didn't  see  me  come  back. 
She  thought  she  knowed  everything.  She  didn't.  I'd 
got  to  know  what  was  goin'  on.  Thar  was  Dai's  inter- 
ests at  stake,  and  him  away  at  Hickory  Creek.  We-all 
had  a  share  in  that  cabin,  with  his  dad  a-layin'  thar. 
Thar  was  nobody  to  look  atter  things  but  me.  I'd  a 
ri-ight  to  see,  and  I  seed.  And  a  plumb  guede  thing  I 
did." 

In  spite  of  the  weight  of  Dai's  hand  upon  his 
shoulder,  Lem  was  a  little  taller  than  usual  at  that 
moment. 

"  You're  right,  boy,"  said  the  young  man,  drawing  a 
long  breath.  "  It  was  a  plumb  good  thing." 

"  I  reckon,"  said  the  boy. 

Naomi  had  not  moved  since  Lem  appeared  on  the 
scene.  Her  hand  still  fondled  Charley's  nose  restrain- 
ingly.  She  had  been  listening  —  and  thinking. 

"  It's  not  the  first  time  I've  been  a  fool,"  she  said  at 
last. 

"  And  you  weren't  the  only  one." 

Dalbert's  voice  had  softened. 

"  Lor !  no,"  interposed  Lem,  with  a  grin  of  humour, 
"  nor  the  wust.  You-uns  hain't  hurt  powerful  much  by 
the  misunderstandin'.  Hit's  the  feller  that  loses  that's 
fooled." 


446  VISITING   THE    SIN 

Lem's  glances  emphasised  the  words. 

"  Fooled !  There's  only  your  word  for  all  this," 
shouted  Will,  for  the  first  time  since  Naomi  made  his 
acquaintance  completely  losing  control  of  his  temper. 

"And  whose  is  thar  that  hit  hain't  so?"  replied  the 
boy.  "  You-u  hain't  a-goin'  to  run  the  risk  o'  luekin' 
more  like  a  fool  than  you're  duin'  naow.  I  can  tell  a 
right  smart  that  '11  bear  luekin'  into.  And  thar  hain't 
nobody  but  you  a-believin'  that  Naomi  was  atter  mur- 
clerin'  anybody.  Mercy  sakes !  Big  Creek  knows  she 
warn't  never  a  fool  till  she  tuk  up  with  you." 

There  was  a  moment's  silence.  Then  a  laugh,  light 
as  air  and  sharp  as  steel,  came  from  Naomi's  lips.  Her 
eyes  met  those  of  Will  Hollingsworth.  As  they  did  so, 
a  fading  ray  of  light  fell  full  on  her  head.  The  pass 
was  growing  dim,  but  that  ray  lit  up  the  girl's  face. 

"Lem  is  not  far  wrong,"  she  said  slowly.  "It's 
powerful  misleading  to  know  too  much.  You  think 
I  had  cause  to  hate  China  Part  ins.  To  quote  Lem, 
1  You  hain't  knowinV  Do  you  know  what  that  woman 
did  for  my  father  ? " 

She  turned  and  faced  the  rocks  on  the  further  side  of 
the  pass,  those  great  boulders  from  the  shelter  of  which 
she  had  watched  the  day  die. 

"  Right  there,  among  those  stones,"  she  said,  "  the 
soldiers  battered  aout  his  life.  There  was  only  a  spark 
left,  and  a  fiend  was  bending  over  one  of  those  rocks  to 
take  that.  The  knife  of  China  Partins  found  his  heart  — 
the  first  time  any  had  found  it  since  it  began  to  beat. 
She  saved  my  father  from  death,  and  out  of  the  wreck 
of  his  life  for  fifteen  years  got  something  to  love.  He 
was  helpless  as  a  baby.  She  took  him  into  her  cabin 
and  shut  all  the  world  aout.  Do  you  know  what  kept 
that  cottage  barred  for  fifteen  years?  The  fear  that 
anybody  should  rob  her  of  him.  She  gave  her  life  to 
him.  What  for  ?  Money  ?  Every  cent  he  had  on  him 


VISITING   THE    SIN  447 

when  he  was  injured  has  been  handed  over  to  me.  She 
grew  wild  at  the  mention  of  being  compensated  for  what 
he  had  cost  her.  Do  you  think  I  should  want  to  kill 
such  a  woman  ? " 

Will  Hollingsworth's  eyes  were  fastened  on  the  girl's 
face.  The  light  upon  it  was  different  from  any  he  had 
ever  seen  there  before.  It  brought  no  answering  glow. 
A  scowl  settled  upon  his  features. 

"  Why  did  you  let  me  think  you  had  done  it  ? "  he 
asked  savagely. 

"  I  was  a  fool,"  she  said. 

He  gave  her  another  searching  look,  and  turned  away 
without  a  word,  setting  his  face  towards  Big  Creek. 

Lem  was  right.  He  was  "  fooled  the  wust,"  for  he 
had  lost. 

When  Naomi  removed  her  eyes  from  his  retreating 
figure,  it  was  to  see  Dalbert  by  her  side.  Lem  had  dis- 
appeared. Want  of  perception  was  not  a  failing  of 
Lem  Sutton's.  The  boy  was  at  the  farm  when  Dal  saw 
him  next. 

"  Will  you  come  back  with  me  ?  It  won't  be  for  long. 
We  will  start  afresh." 

Dalbert' s  hand  was  on  her  arm.  He  was  trying  to 
look  into  her  eyes,  but  the  light  failed  suddenly  here  in 
the  Gap. 

"We're  in  the  same  box,"  he  said.  "  You  had  about 
as  much  faith  in  me  as  I  had  in  you.  Lem's  right. 
We're  a  set  of  fools,  only  —  it  was  no  new  thing  for  you 
to  peril  your  own  safety  for  one  particular  member  of 
the  set." 

She  breathed  a  long,  low  sigh,  as  if  to  shake  off  a 
nightmare  of  oppression. 

"  We  will  go,"  she  said.  "  We  can  do  nothing  at  the 
cabin  to-night.  To-morrow  we  will  take  witnesses. 
Dalbert,  she  has  stood  between  him  and  death  from  the 
day  she  killed  his  would-be  murderer.  They  must  be 


448  VISITING   THE    SIN 

buried  together.  She  would  not  live  without  him. 
They  shall  not  be  separated  in  their  death.  Afterwards 
we  will  go  away,  and  move  the  machinery  from  Cedar 
Fork  to  a  more  promising  place.  There  is  money  to 
start  afresh  now." 

Darkness  dropped  like  a  veritable  presence  into  the 
Gap.  There  was  no  sound  but  the  light  thud  of 
Charley's  hoofs,  as  Dalbert  and  Naomi  walked  side  by 
side  through  the  pass.  There  was  much  to  tell,  but 
they  were  thinking  instead  of  talking. 

Darkness  was  short-lived  that  night.  By  the  time 
the  brother  and  sister  had  left  the  village  behind  them, 
the  moon  was  announcing  its  ?oming.  Its  broad,  friendly 
disc  surmounted  an  opposing  hillside  and  sent  the  first 
unobstructed  ray  down  into  the  valley  as  they  approached 
the  house  of  Kennedy  Poteet.  The  old  house  showed 
dark  in  the  hollow,  as  it  had  done  on  the  night  when 
Naomi  and  Marshall  Rutherford  stopped  before  it 
months  ago.  This  evening,  however,  the  gate  stood 
open ;  and  the  moon  discovered  two  figures  beneath  the 
apple  trees.  Its  rays  were  not  keen  enough  to  reveal 
a  pair  of  blue  eyes  that  looked  into  dark  ones. 

"  We'll  open  hit  agin,  Norah,  and  give  hit  a  new  lease 
of  life.  There  shall  be  joy  in  the  old  house  yet." 

It  was  Marshall  Rutherford's  voice.  Naomi  was  not 
the  only  one  who  was  planning  changes  for  the  future. 


THE  UNIVERSITY  LIBRARY 
UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA,  SANTA  CRUZ 

This  book  is  due  on  the  last  DATE  stamped  below. 


50m-6,'67(H2523s8)2373 


3  2106  00213  9779 


